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KIIGS AND QUEENS; 



Cife in l\)t |3alace: 



CONSISTING OF 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA, LOUIS 

PHILIPPE, FERDINAND OF AUSTRIA, NICHOLAS, ISABELLA H., 

LEOPOLD, AND VICTORIA. 



BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT. 



NEW YORK: 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
82 CLIFF STREET. 

i848. 



3 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand 
eight hundred and forty-eight, by 

Harfer & Brothers, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District 
of New York. 



PREFACE. 



I 



T is extremely difficult to obtain accurate information 
respecting the character and conduct of those who occupy 
thrones. The views of writers are so influenced by political 
predilections, that the same character is represented by one 
as an angel, and by another as a demon. The author of the 
following sketches has spared no pains to obtain as correct 
knowledge as possible of the distinguished individuals of 
whom he has written, and he has introduced no illustrative 
actions which have not appeared to him to be well authen- 
ticated. He has not been careful to inquire whether the 
opinions he has expressed are generally entertained or not. 
He has only endeavored to give utterance to his honest con- 
victions in reference to events and actions which have agi- 
tated and still divide the opinions of the world. 

New York, May, 1848. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA 13 

LOUIS PHILIPPE 57 

FERDINAND 109 

NICHOLAS 143 

LEOPOLD 193 

ISABELLA 235 

VICTORIA 277 



KINGS AND QUEENS 



Cife in tl)e |)alace. 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 



KINGS AND QUEENS. 



Josephine and Maria Louisa. 



A 



DARKER day never enveloped in its gloom the Aus- 
trian monarchy, than when the beleaguering hosts of Napo- 
leon encompassed Vienna, and from their encircling batter- 
ies were showering shot and shells upon the doomed city. 
The armies of Austria, in repeated conflicts, had been mown 
down and scattered by the resistless conqueror. As the 
eagles of Napoleon glittered upon the hills which overlook 
the city, the royal family, with the " hot haste" which ter- 
ror inspires, had fled far orf" into the wilds of Hungary. It 
is midnight. The sky is streaked with the fiery projec- 
tiles which, like meteors of death, are descending into the 
thronged and dismayed metropolis. Flames are bursting 
forth in every part of the city. All hearts are frozen with 
terror. There is no place of refuge. Red-hot balls crush 
their way through dwellings of brick and stone. Shells ex- 
plode in the cradle of the infant, and, upheaving the most 
massive dwellings, bury their mangled inmates beneath 
their ruins. The clamors of two hundred thousand comba- 
tants fill the midnight air, and mmgle with the thunders of 
one of the most awful bombardments earth has ever wit- 
nessed. 

B 



14 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



In one of the chambers of the royal palace there lies a 
maiden, sixteen years of age, the daughter of the king. 
Her father and mother, in the consternation of their flight, 
were compelled to leave behind them their sick child. Her 
cheek is flushed with fever, and again paled with terror, as 
the uproar of the assault, like angiy thunders, fill the air. 
The glare of bursting shells and the flames of the spread- 
ing conflagration portentously gleam through the wuidows 
upon the eye of the sick and terrified sufferer. She in vain 
buries her head beneath tlie bed-clothes to shut out the hor- 
rid cries of the assailants and the shrieks of the wounded. 

In the midst of this most dreadful scene, the gates of the 
city are suddenly thrown open, and a small party emerge, 
and with a flag of truce pass through the embattling hosts, 
till they apj)ro{i(?h the presence of Napoleon. They inform 
him of the situation and the peril of the princess. He in- 
stantly orders the direction of every gun to be changed 
which might endanger her person. The flag of truce again 
retires within the walls, and the awful bombardment con- 
tinues. For ten long hours this terrific storm of iron de- 
scends upon the city, till three thousand shells have filled 
its streets with ruins and with blood. But JNIaria Louisa 
remains upon her bed unharmed, though other parts of her 
father's palace are blown from their foundations. Little 
did she imagine, in the consternation of that dreadful night, 
that it was her future husband who was thus raining down 
destruction upon her father's capital ; and little did the ple- 
beian conqueror imagine, as he compassionately changed 
the direction of his guns, that this maiden was to be the 
Queen of France, and that by this bombardment he was 
wooing and winnmg for his bride a daughter of the Csesars. 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 



A daughter of the Caesars ! What a mysterious influ- 
ence there is in ancestral renown ! Napoleon even, the 
creator of his crown, the fabricator of his own glory, was 
dazzled by its glare. IVIaria Louisa was a lineal descend- 
ant of the proudest monarchs of Rome. The blood which 
circulated in her veins had passed to her from the Csesars, 
and through the heroic heart of Maria Theresa. She had 
been cradled and nurtured amid scenes of moral sublimity 
and regal magnificence, which, one would think, would give 
an impress of grandeur even to the meanest soul. Surely, 
then, her spirit must be animated with all that is lofty and 
ennobling in human character. Alas ! it was not so. She 
was nothing more than a mild, amiable, pretty girl, utterly 
incapable of cherishing an idea of magnanimity or of hero- 
ism. She was endowed by nature only with those quali- 
ties which were most common-place and earthly, and was 
entirely unqualified to act a noble part in the lofty drama 
through which she was destined to move. 

Napoleon was at this time contemplating a divorce from 
Josephme. He loved Josephine as mtensely as so ambitious 
a spirit was capable of loving any person. His connection 
with her had been founded on the most romantic attach- 
ment, and was associated with all the most interesting 
events of his history. His desire for a divorce did not orig- 
inate in any waning of affection, but was urged by those 
considerations of state policy for which, in his boundless 
ambition, he was ready to sacrifice every affection. He 
deemed it essential to the perpetuity of his throne that he 
should add the grandeur of ancestral renown to the glory 
of his unparalleled exploits ; and his desire was intense to 
>be blessed with an heir who should inherit his power and 
perpetuate his name. 



16 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



Rumors had for wme time been reaching Josephine of 
the doom which was impending over her. Agitated with 
the most terrible fears, and again clinging to trembling hope, 
the unhappy empress passed several weeks in the agony of 
suspense. Both were under great restraint, and neither 
hardly ventured to look at the other. The contemplated 
divorce was noised abroad, and Josephine read, in the 
averted looks of her former friend, the indications of her 
approaching disgrace. Napoleon and Josephine had been 
accustomed to live upon terms of the most affectionate in- 
timacy, and in their private hours, free from the restraints 
of a court, she would loiter in his cabinet, and he would 
steal in, an ever-welcome visiter, upon the secrecy of her 
boudoir. Now, reserve and restraint marked every word 
and movement. The ))rivate access between their apart- 
ments was closed. Napoleon no longer entered her boiidoir ; 
but, Avhen he wished to speak to her, respectfully knocking 
at the door, would wait her approach. Whenever Jose- 
phine heard the sound of his approaching footsteps, the fear 
that he was coming with the terrible announcement of sep- 
aration immediately caused such violent palpitations of the 
heart that it was with the utmost diiliculty she could totter 
across the floor, even when supporting herself by leaning 
against the walls, and catching at the articles of furniture. 
They had many private interviews before Napoleon ventured 
to announce directly his determmation, in which he hinted 
at the necessity of the measure. From all these interviews 
Josephine returned with her eyes so swollen with weeping 
as to give her attendants the erroneous impression that per- 
sonal violence was used to compel her to consent. 

The fatal day for the announcement at length arrived. 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 17 

Josephine appears to have had some presentiment that her 
doom was sealed, for all the day she had been in her private 
apartment vi^eeping bitterly. As the dinner-hour approach- 
ed, to conceal her weeping and swollen eyes she wore a 
head-dress with a deep front, which shaded the whole of 
the upper part of her face. They dined alone. Napoleon 
entered the room in the deepest embarrassment. He uttered 
not a word, but mechanically struck the edge of his glass 
with his knife, as if to divert his thoughts. Josephine could 
not conceal the convulsive agitations of her frame. They 
sat together during the whole meal in silence. The vari- 
ous courses were brought in, and removed untouched by 
either. Says Josephine, " We dined together as usual. I 
struggled with my tears, which, notwithstanding every ef- 
fort, overflowed from my eyes. I uttered not a single word 
during that solitary meal ; and he broke silence but once, 
to ask an attendant about the weather. My sunshine, I 
saw, had passed away ; the storm burst quickly." Imme- 
diately after this sorrowful repast. Napoleon requested the 
attendants to leave the room. The emperor, closing the 
door after them with his own hand, approached Josephine, 
who was trembling in every nerve. The struggle in tlie 
soul of Napoleon was fearful. His whole frame trembled. 
His countenance assumed the expression of the firm resolve 
which nerved him to this unpardonable wrong. He took 
the hand of the empress, pressed it to his heart, gazed for a 
moment, speechless, upon those features which had won his 
youthful love, and then, with a voice tremulous with the 
storm which shook both soul and body, said, " Josephine, 
my good Josephine, you know how I have loved you ; it is 
,to you, to you alone, that I owe the few moments of happi- 

B2 



]g KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ness I have known in the world. Josephme, my destmy is 
more powerful than my will. My dearest affections must 
yield to the interests of France." " Say no more," ex- 
claimed the empress, in mortal anguish ; " I expected this. 
T understand and feel for you ; but the stroke is not the less 
mortal." And, with a piercing shriek, she fell lifeless upon 
the floor. Napoleon hastily opened the door and called for 
help. His pliysioian, Dr. Corvisart, was at hand, and, enter- 
ing with other attendants, they raised the unconscious Jo- 
sephine from the floor, who, in a delirium of agony, was ex- 
claiming, " Oh no ! you can not, you can not do it ! you 
would not kill me." Napoleon supported the limbs of Jo- 
sephine, while another bore her body, and thus they con- 
veyed her to her bed-room. Placing the insensible empress 
upon the bed. Napoleon again dismissed the attendants and 
rang for her women, who, on entering, found him bending 
over her lifeless form with an expression of the deepest 
anxiety and ansruish. Napoleon slept not that night, but 
paced his room in silence and solitude, probably lashed by 
an avenging conscience. He frequently, during the night, 
returned to Josephine's room to inquire concerning her sit- 
uation, but each time the sound of his footstep and of his 
voice almost threw the agonized empress into convulsions. 
"No I no I" says Josephine, " 1 can not describe the horror of 
my situation during that night I Even the interest which 
he aft'ected to take in my sufferings seemed to me additional 
cruelty. O! how jnstly had I reason to dread becoming an 
empress !" 

At length the day arrived for the public announcement 
of the divorce. The imperial council of state was convened 
in the Tuileries, and all the members of the imperial family 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 19 

and all the prominent officers of the empire were present. 
Napoleon, with his pale and care-worn features, but ill con- 
cealed by the drooping plumes which were arranged to over- 
shadow them, sacrificing strong love to still stronger am- 
bition, with a voice made firm by the very struggle with 
which he was agitated, in the following terms assigned to 
tlie world the reasons for this cruel separation : 

" The political interests of my monarchy, the wishes of 
my people, which have constantly guided my actions, re- 
quire that I should leave behind me, to heirs of my love for 
my people, the throne on which Providence has placed me. 
For many years I have lost all hopes of having children by 
my beloved spouse, the Empress Josephine. That it is 
which induces me to sacrifice the sweetest affections of my 
heart, to consider only the good of my subjects, and desire 
the dissolution of our marriage. Arrived at the age of forty 
years, I may indulge a reasonable hope of living long enough 
to rear, in the spirit of my own thoughts and disposition, 
the children with which it may please Providence to bless 
me. God knows what such a determination has cost my 
heart j but there is no sacrifice which is above my courage, 
when it is proved to be for the interests of France. Far 
from having any cause of complaint, I have nothing to say 
but in praise of the attachment and tenderness of my be- 
loved wife. She has embellished fifteen years of my life ; 
the remembrance of them shall be forever engraven on my 
heart. She was crowned by my hand ; she shall retain al- 
ways the rank and title of empress. But, above all, let her 
never doubt my feelings, or regard me but as her best and 
dearest friend." 

Josephine, with a fa,ltering voice, and with her eyes suf- 



20 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



fused with tears, replied, "I respond to all the sentiments 
of the emperor in consenting to the dissolution of a marriage 
which henceforth is an obstacle to the happiness of France 
by depriving it of the blessing of being one day governed by 
the descendants of that great man, evidently raised up by 
providence to efface the evds of a terrible revolution, and 
restore the altar, the throne, and social order. But his 
marriage will in no respect change the sentiments of my 
heart ; the emperor will ever find m me his best friend. I 
know what this act, commanded by policy and exalted in- 
terest, has cost his heart ; but we both glory in the sacri- 
fices which we make to the good of our country. I feel 
elevated by giving the greatest proof of attachment that 
was ever given upon earth." 

Such were the sentmients, replete with dignity and gran- 
deur, which were uttered in public ; but Josephine returned 
from this dreadful effort to her chamber of the darkest woe, 
and so violent and so protracted was her anguish, that for 
six months she wept so incessantly as to be nearly blinded 
with grief. The next day after the public announcement 
to the imperial council of state of the intended separation, 
the whole imperial family were assembled in the gi-and sa- 
loon of the Tuileries for the legal consummation of the di- 
vorce. It was the 16th of December, 1810. Napoleon 
was there in all his robes of state, yet care-worn and wretch- 
ed. With his arms folded across his breast, he leaned 
against a pillar as motionless as a statue, uttering not a 
word to any one, and apparently msensible of the tragedy 
enacting around him, of which he was the sole author, and 
eventually the most pitiable victim. The members of the 
Bonaparte family, who were jealous of the almost boundless 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 21 

influence which Josephine had exerted over their imperial 
brother, were all there, secretly rejoicing in her disgrace. 
In the center of the apartment there was a small table, and 
upon it a writing apparatus of gold. An arm-chair was 
placed before the table. A silence, as of death, pervaded 
the room. All eyes were fixed upon that chair and table, 
as though they were the instruments of a dreadful execu- 
tion. A side door opened, and Josephine entered, supported 
by her daughter Hortense, who, not possessing the fortitude 
of her mother, burst into tears as she entered the apartment, 
and continued sobbing as though her heart would break. 
All immediately arose upon the appearance of Josephine. 
She wore a simple dress of white muslin, unadorned by a 
single ornament. With that peculiar grace for which she 
was ever distmguished, she moved slowly and silently to 
the seat prepared for her. Leaning her elbow upon the 
table, and supporting her pallid brow with her hand, she 
struggled to repress the anguish of her soul as she listened 
to the reading of the act of separation. The voice of the 
reader was interrupted only by the convulsive sobbings of 
Hortense, who stood behind her mother's chair. Eugene 
also stood beside his mother in that dreadful hour, pale, and 
trembling like an aspen leaf. Josephine sat with tears si- 
lently trickling down her cheeks, in the mute composure of 
despair. 

At the close of this painful duty, Josephine for a moment 
pressed her handkercheif to her weeping eyes ; but, instant- 
ly regaining her composure, arose, and with her voice of in- 
effable sweetness, in clear and distinct tones, pronounced 
the oath of acceptance. Again she sat down, and with a 
trembling hand took the pen and placed her signature to 



22 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



the deed which forever separated her from the object of 
her dearest affections and from her most cherished hopes. 
Scarcely had she laid down her pen when Eugene dropped 
lifeless upon the floor, and he was borne to his chamber in 
a state of insensibility as his mother and sister retired. 

But there still remained another scene of anguish in this 
day of woe. Josephine sat in her chamber, in solitude and 
speechlessness, till Napoleon's usual hour for retiring to rest 
had arrived. In silence and m wretchedness. Napoleon had 
just placed himself in the bed from which he had ejected 
the wife of his youth, and his servant was waiting only to 
receive orders to retire, when suddenly the private door to 
his chamber opened, and Josephine appeared, with swollen 
eyes and disheveled hair, and all the dishabille of unutter- 
able agony. With trembling steps she tottered into the 
room, approached the bed, and then irresolutely stopped, 
and burst into an agony of tears. Delicacy — a feeling as 
if she now had no right to be there — seemed at first to have 
arrested her progress ; but, forgetting every thing in the 
fuhiess of her grief, she threw herself upon the bed, clasped 
her husband's neck, and sobbed as if her heart had been 
breaking. Napoleon also wept, while he endeavored to con- 
sole her, and they remained, for some time locked in each 
other's arms, silently mingling their tears together. The 
attendant was dismissed, and, for an hour, they remained 
together in this last private interview, and then Josephine 
parted forever from the husband she had so long, so fondly, 
and so faithfully loved. As Josephine retired, the attendant 
again entered, and found Napoleon so buried in the bod- 
clothes as to be invisible. And when he arose in the morn- 
ing, his pale and haggard features gave attestation of the 
sufferings of a sleepless night. 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 23 

At eleven o'clock the next day Josephine was to leave 
the scene of all her earthly greatness, and to depart from 
the Tuileries forever. The whole household were assem- 
bled on the stairs and in the vestibule, in order to obtain 
a last look of a mistress whom they had loved, and who, 
to use an expression of one present, " carried with her 
into exile the hearts of all who had enjoyed the happiness 
of access to her presence." Josephine appeared, leaning 
upon the arm of one of her ladies, and veiled from head to 
foot. She held a handkerchief to her eyes, and moved 
forward amid silence, at first uninterrupted, but to which 
almost immediately succeeded a universal burst of grief. 
Josephine, though not insensible to this proof of attachment, 
spoke not ; but instantly entering a close carriage, with 
six horses, drove rapidly away, without casting one look 
backward on the scene of past greatness and departed hap- 
piness. The palace of Malmaison was assigned to Jose- 
phine for her future residence, and a jointure of about six 
hundred thousand dollars a year settled upon her. Here, 
after many months of tears, she gradually regained com- 
posure, as time healed the wound which had been inflicted 
upon her heart. It was soon evident that there was no 
surer way of securing the favor of Napoleon than by pay- 
ing marked attention to Josephine. She was consequently 
treated with the utmost deference by all the ambassadors 
of foreign courts and all the crowned heads of Europe. 

One of the ladies who had been attached to the brilliant 
court of Josephine, upon the fall of her mistress was anxious 
to abandon her, and to revolve as a satellite around the new 
luminary, Maria Louisa. To the application, Napoleon re- 
plied in an angry tone, " No ! no I she shall not. Although 



24 K1NG8 AND QUEENS 



I am charged with ingratitude toward Josephine, I will have 
no imitators, especially among the persons whom she has 
honored with her confidence and loaded with her favors." 

Josephine gives the following account of a subsequent in- 
terview with Napoleon at Malmaison. " I was one day 
painting a violet, a flower which recalled to my memory 
my more happy days, when one of my women ran toward me 
and made a sign by placing her finger upon her lips. The 
next moment I was overpowered. I beheld Napoleon. He 
threw himself with transport into the arms of his old friend. 
O ! then I was convinced that he could still love me ; for 
that man really loved mc. It seemed impossible for him 
to cease gazing upon me ; and his look was that of the most 
tender affection. At length, in a tone of the deepest com- 
passion and love, he said, ' My dear Josephine ! I have 
always loved you — I love you still. Do yovi still love me, 
excellent and good Josephine? Do you still love me, in 
spite of the relations I have contracted, and which have 
separated me from you ? But they have not banished you 
from my memory.' ' Sire,' said I — ' Call me Bonaparte,' 
said he ; ' speak to me, my beloved, with the same free- 
dom, the same familiarity as ever.' Bonaparte soon disap- 
peared, and I heard only the sound of his retii'ing footsteps. 
O I how quickly does every thing take place upon earth. 
I had once more felt the pleasure of being loved." 

The repudiation of Josephine, strong as were the polit- 
ical motives which led to it, is the darkest stain upon the 
character of Napoleon. And, like all wi'ong doing, how- 
ever seemingly prosperous for a time, it promoted final dis- 
aster and woe. A pique, originating in his second mar- 
riage, alienated Alexander of Russia from the French em- 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 



peror, and hence the campaign of Moscow, and the impris- 
onment of Napoleon upon the rock of St. Helena. 

When the design of Napoleon was known, every court 
in Europe was emulous of the honor of such an alliance. 
The Bourbons, in their exile, would gladly furnish a 
princess of the blood royal as a bride for the mighty con- 
queror. The Russian court proffers any of its high-born 
maidens to the acceptance of the master-spirit, at whose 
frown all Europe trembles ; and the Austrian monarchy, 
the proudest of all earthly dynasties, eagerly seeks alliance 
with the soldier of fortune, who has twice entered its cap- 
ital in triumph, and reposed, with his plebeian marshals, in 
its palaces. After much deliberation, Napoleon decided to 
accept the alliance of Austria. Proposals were made for 
Maria Louisa, and eagerly accepted. Maria was then 
nineteen years of age, and was most happy to be honored 
as the bride of one who had filled the world with his re- 
nown. Napoleon was forty-two. 

On the 12th of March, 1810, apparently without emo- 
tion, Maria left the palaces of her father, surrounded by all 
the pomp the Austrian monarchy could confer, to meet her 
future husband. As the long train of carriages left Vien- 
na, the people gazed mournfully upon the scene, Maria 
Antoinette, the last princess Austria had furnished for the 
throne of France, but a few years before had perished mis- 
erably upon the scaftbld. The populace were only prevent- 
ed by the soldiers from cutting the traces of the carriages 
and preventing the departure. The gorgeous procession 
proceeded on its way toward the frontiers of France. Na- 
poleon had never yet seen the bride who was coming to 
riieet him. " She is not beautiful," he said, as he gazed 

C 



26 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



upon her miniature, "but she is a daughter of the Cees- 
ars !" 

When Maria arrived at the Rhine, her Austrian attend- 
ants left her, and she was received by the French nation 
and conducted tovi^ard Paris with the highest possible ac- 
companiments of imperial splendor. The beUs rang their 
merriest peals of congratulation. The Austrian and the 
tricolored flag floated m friendly embrace from every tower. 
Triumphal arches, illuminated cities, and civil and mili- 
tary processions greeted her progress, while the horses of 
her chariot buried their hoofs in the beds of roses which 
were spread over her path. France, then in the zenith of 
its pride and intoxicated with glory, from the Rhine to the 
Pyrenees resounded with all the expressions and demon- 
strations of rejoicing. Napoleon met her near Compeigne. 
Springmg from his own carriage, he eagerly leaped into 
that of the empress, and, entirely regardless of all the re- 
straints and etiquette of courts, folded her in his embrace 
with the most youthful impetuosity. The postillions were 
ordered to drive upon the gallop to the Palace of Com- 
peigne. This unexpected ardor was not at all unwelcome 
to Maria, and a few hours in tlie society of her imperial 
husband invested her with such queenly ease and affability 
that she could hardly be recognized by her former attend- 
ants. The marriage ceremony was celebrated with the 
utmost splendor at St. Cloud, and never before or since has 
Paris resounded with such an uproar of rejoicing as when 
Napoleon led his youthful bride into those apartments of 
the Tuileries from which Josephine, but three months be- 
fore, had been so cruelly ejected. Four queens held the 
bridal train of Maria Louisa, and the ambassadors of all 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 



the courts of Europe revolved around her as their central 
luminary. But who can tell how dismally these rejoicings 
fell upon the ear of Josephine, as she sat weeping in her 
deserted chambers ! 

In one year from that time, Maria was placed upon that 
mysterious couch of suffering from which no regal wealth 
or splendor can purchase exemption. Her pains were long 
protracted and her anguish dreadful. The attendant phy- 
sicians, in the utmost trepidation, informed Napoleon that 
the life of the mother or the child must be sacrificed. 
"Save the mother," said Napoleon; but, perceiving that 
they had lost their presence of mind in view of the peril of 
so illustrious a patient, he immediately added, " Do as you 
would with the wife of the humblest tradesman of the Rue 
St. Denis." The physicians, reassured, returned to their 
duty, and the crisis was passed. 

The birth of this child was an event which had been an- 
ticipated by all France with the most intense interest. It 
had been previously announced that the cannon of the In- 
valides should proclaim the advent of the expected heir to 
the throne. If the child were a princess, twenty-one guns 
were to be fired ; if a prince, one hundred. At six o'clock 
in the mornmg of the 20th of March, 1810, all Paris was 
aroused by the deep booming of those heavy guns, rever- 
berating over the city in annunciation of the arrival of the 
welcome stranger. Every window was instantaneously 
thrown open. Every ear was on the alert. The slumber- 
ers were aroused from their pillows, and silence pervaded 
all the streets of the busy metropolis, as the vast throngs 
stood motionless to count the tidings which those explosions 
were thundering into their ears. The heart of the great 



98 KINGS AND QUEKNS. 



capital ceased to beat, and in all her glowing veins the cur- 
rent of life stood still. When the twenty-first gun had been 
fired, the interest was intense beyond all conception. The 
gunners delayed for a moment the next discharge, and all 
Paris stood breathless in suspense. The next moment, the 
guns, double loaded, pealed forth the most welcome an- 
nouncement, and from the entu-e city one universal roar of 
acclamation rose and blended with their thunders. Never 
was an earthly monarch greeted with a more affecting de- 
monstration of a nation's love and homage. The birth of 
the King of Rome, how illustrious I The thoughtful mind 
will pause and muse upon the striking contrast furnished 
by his death. Who could then have imagined that his re- 
nowned father would perish a prisoner, in a dilapidated sta- 
ble in St. Helena, and that this child, a nation's idol, would 
linger through a few short years of neglect and sorrow, and 
sink into a forgotten grave ! 

The sisters of Alexander of Russia were mortified and 
exceedingly irritated that Napoleon should have selected an 
Austrian rather than a Russian princess for his bride. In 
these feelings the Russian court generally participated. 
Coldness, and alienation, and mutual recrimmation ensued. 
Anticipating a rupture, Alexander began to marshal his 
armies. Napoleon inquired the cause, and, receiving an 
unsatisfactory answer, also armed, that he might not be 
attacked unprepared. Step by step these angry demon- 
strations were contmued, till the disastrous campaign to 
Moscow was arranged, to " conquer a peace." When Na- 
poleon had made all his preparations for this majestic en- 
terprise, and had assembled his legions upon the frontiers 
of his almost boundless empire, Maria Louisa accompanied 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 29 

him as far as Dresden. That was the hour and that was 
the place where Napoleon stood upon the very pinnacle of 
his glory. He had arrived at the very summit of the pyr- 
amid ; and, as aU eyes were riveted upon him, awe-strick- 
en, he made one false step, and rolled, a mangled corpse, to 
the dust. At Dresden there was literally a congress of 
kings, all doing homage to him who appeared to hold their 
crowns in his hands, and who could enthrone them or de- 
throne them at his pleasure. The wife of Napoleon was 
then surrounded with more of splendor and homage than 
any female had probably ever received before. The pomp 
and the pride of the Continent revolved around her, and be- 
fore her youthful diadem the oldest potentates bowed in 
reverence. Queens were her maids of honor, and amid the 
brilliant throng of princes and of courtiers she beamed forth 
the cynosure of all eyes. The luster which encircled her 
husband enveloped her in its blaze of glory. It was, how- 
ever, but the intense glare of the meteor, the precursor of 
the blackness and darkness which follows its explosion. 

Napoleon appointed Maria regent of France during his 
absence. She returned from Dresden quietly to Paris, 
while the emperor proceeded with his glittering band of five 
hundred thousand warriors in the campaign where he lost 
his army and his crown. At the termination of that most 
disastrous enterprise, Napoleon, leaving his frozen hosts be- 
neath the drifts of a Russian winter, fled as on the win^s 
of the storm itself, day and night, over the bleak wilds of 
Poland and of Germany, till, m advance of all his couriers, 
he arrived in Paris, at midnight. Unattended and unex- 
pected as he was, it was vdth no little difficulty that he 
could get the gates of his own palace open for his admission. 

C2 



;jO KINGS AND QUEENS. 



IMaria, having heard rumors of the destruction of the army, 
had just retired to rest, in the deepest dejection, when the 
voices of two men were heard in the antechamber, and a 
cry of astonishment from one of the maids of honor an- 
nounced that something extraordinary had occurred. The 
empress, in terror, leaped from her bed, when the door was 
burst open, and she was seized and enfolded in the embrace 
of a man enveloped in his wintry riding-dress. It was Na- 
poleon. Their interview was tender and affecting. He had 
returned to his capital a fugitive. His army was literally 
annihilated, and all the powers of combined Europe were 
preparing to pour down upon France in resistless numbers. 
Despair alone could nerve one with energy to attempt to 
meet such a crisis. Never did mortal man before rouse 
himself to such Herculean efforts as Napoleon made in these 
days of disaster. With electric energy he convulsed every 
fiber of France. Not a day, not an hour, not a moment 
was lost. The long wars which had desolated Europe had 
drained France of its vigorous youth. Hundreds of thou- 
sands of her chosen young men were now lying frozen into 
blocks of ice upon the storm-swept plains of Scandinavia, 
and the tempests of winter were piling over them their 
winding sheets of snow. None were left but boys and old 
men, to meet the swelling flood of invasion. Napoleon 
gathers around him a little band, many of them beardless 
youths of seventeen, and witli a saddened yet determined 
spirit advances to stem the inundation which, like ocean 
billows, is rolling in upon the frontiers of France. Before 
setting out from Paris on his desperate enterprise, he took 
a very solemn and affecting leave of Maria and his son. It 
was Sabbath evening. Napoleon assembled in the apart- 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 31 

merits of the Tuileries all the principal officers of the Na- 
tional Guard. A religious ceremony was connected with 
the interview, to render it additionally imposing. As the 
emperor took the beautiful child, then three years of age, 
in his arms, and, passing through the ranks of the officers, 
with a most touching address presented him to them as 
their future sovereign, cries of enthusiasm filled the apart- 
ment, and those gray -headed veterans wept with emotion. 
The bell on the tower of Notre Dame was tolling three 
o'clock in the morning when Napoleon rode through the 
dark and deserted streets of Paris to join the army. He 
never saw Maria or his son again. 

A more sublime spectacle has rarely been witnessed than 
the almost superhuman struggles of Napoleon against the 
fearful odds which came rushing upon him. Wherever he 
meets his foes, he hurls his little band upon them, and 
scatters them as leaves before the tempest. And still the 
concentric lines draw nearer and nearer to his capital ; for, 
even when victory is perched upon the banner of the em- 
peror, and, with his beardless boys, he is trampling in the 
dust the shaggy barbarians of Hungary and Tartary, in 
other parts of the interminable line the countless hosts are 
advancing. They roll on and roll on, from the north, and 
the east, and the south, like the locusts of Syria. Often 
as Napoleon rode over the gory field, and saw the slender 
and fragile forms with which the ground was strewn, inured 
as he was to scenes of carnage, and contending as he was 
for his throne and his liberty, he forgot himself and wept. 
But it was all in vain. Europe had risen in arms against 
a single man. The allies pressed on, and soon their bat- 
terries were reared upon the heights which surround Paris, 



32 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



and their balls began to fall upon the roofs of the beleaguer- 
ed city like the &st drops of a tempest. Napoleon was ab- 
.sent, breastmg the invaders in one part of the vast segment 
by which they were approaching. All hearts in the me- 
tropolis were frozen with terror ; and, to avoid the horrors 
of bombardment, the capital of France capitulated, and 
Napoleon was ruined. 

It was, indeed, a gloomy hour when Maria Louisa, with 
her son, descended from the apartments of the Tuileries to 
escape from Paris. In the distance could be heard the 
thunders of approaching battle, and the young Napoleon 
clung screaming to the tapestry, refusing to be torn from 
the palace of his father. Pale and dejected, the unhappy 
empress entered her carriage, while a Parisian crowd gazed 
upon the scene in melancholy silence. It was the burial 
hour of the Napoleon dynasty. The funeral procession, in 
a long train of carriages, passed slowly away, and Maria, 
deserting her husband in the hour of his gi'eatest need, 
threw herself upon the protection of the allies. If she had 
possessed one emotion of real greatness, then was the hour 
to have shown it, and to have extorted tlic admiration of 
mankind. Had Paris held out three days longer. Napoleon 
would have thrown himself behind its defenses, and at least 
would have compelled his foes to come to reasonable terms. 
He felt most keenly the want of character manifested by 
his wife on this occasion. Once only, in the most confiden- 
tial intercourse, did he allow himself to utter any expression 
of these feelings. " Who can calculate the effect," he said, 
"which would have been produced by my youthful consort 
running through the ranks of the army and the national 
guard, holding her young son in her arms, presenting him 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 33 

to all, and placing herself and him under the protection of 
their courage and their bayonets? Whenever I think of 
it, the anguish abridges my life of an hour." 

Had Maria possessed the heroic soul of Joan of Arc or of 
Charlotte Corday, she would have ennobled herself and her 
sex in this crisis, which seemed to invite her to achieve- 
ments of magnanimity. She would have roused the enthu- 
siasm of the nation, and, rushing to the rescue of Napoleon, 
would have thro^vn entire France upon the invaders. But 
Maria was no heroine. Had Maria been capable of cher- 
ishing those deep and sacred emotions of woman's love 
which glowed in the truly imperial soul of Josephine, and 
which have made her the idol of all true hearts, she would 
have clung to Napoleon with deathless fervor in those days 
of adversity, and would have won the admiration of the 
world. Maria, following her husband to Elba, sharing his 
perils at Waterloo, and seated by his side on the storm- 
washed rocks of St. Helena, would have occupied, in the 
eyes of all nations, a more exalted throne than her illustri- 
ous ancestors of Rome ever embellished ; and in her own 
living, glowing, throbbing heart, she would have found a 
luxury of emotion for which one might well spurn aU the 
bawbles of pomp, and pride, and power. But Maria was 
of the " earth, earthy." In the poverty of her ignoble spirit, 
she preferred to dally with her own chamberlain on volup- 
tuous sofas, in the luxurious apartments of a ducal palace, 
and to leave her husband to languish and to die alone. 
Peace be with you, Maria. 

It was, perhaps, less the fault than the misfortune of Ma- 
ria that her soul was incommensurate with the grandeur 
of her circumstances. She was by nature merely a mild, 



34 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



amiable woman, and utterly incapable of heroic action or 
of romantic love. There is no power upon earth by which 
the mind of man is so perfectly entranced as by the spirit 
of a truly noble woman. One is constrained to bow, almost 
with adoration, before the alliance of female loveliness with 
the lofty attributes of the soul. The union is rare, but 
when encountered, the entranced spirit does it willing hom- 
age. There are spirits dwelling in these mortal frames 
which seem almost radiant with the luster of Heaven. But 
they are seldom cradled under the canopy of a throne. 

It is true that the situation of Maria during this conflict 
was peculiar, and for a feeble mind extremely embarrassing. 
The armies of Austria and France were arrayed against 
each other. Her father and her husband had crossed swords 
with the most unrelentmg hostility. The affections are 
plants which do not thrive in the atmosphere of courts. 
Napoleon could immolate Josephine upon the altar of his po- 
litical ambition, and the Emperor of Austria had no hesita- 
tion in sacrificing the grandeur of his daughter to promote 
the grandeur of his throne. In the downfall of France the 
spoilers would share the booty ; and Francis was very will- 
ing to wrest territory and power from his own child, that 
he might annex them to his own dominions. It is not, per- 
haps, strange, that a daughter of the Caesars should inherit 
this passion of the Csesars. As Maria saw the empire of 
Napoleon falling into fragments, she forgot both her hus- 
band and her son in her eagerness to save what she could 
from the wreck for herself. 

While Napoleon was engaged in the almost superhuman 
struggle which preceded his downfall, he looked constantly, 
not to Maria, but to Josephine, for that sympathy which 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 35 

every human heart needs. His last interview with Jose- 
phine, as he returned a fugitive from Moscow, and again 
departed to meet his foes, was hurried and distressed. He, 
however, kept up a constant correspondence with her ; and, 
as the clouds of misfortune grew more black over his head, 
his letters became more affectionate than ever. In the last 
he wrote before the conflict terminated, he said, "I have 
sought to meet death in many conflicts. I can no longer 
fear it. To me death would now be a blessing. But I 
would once more see Josephine." Though from motives 
of delicacy he had never seen her alone since her divorce, 
he had availed himself of every opportunity which the jeal- 
ousy of Maria Louisa would permit, to visit her ; and he 
confided to her all his plans. She had earnestly endeavor- 
ed to dissuade him from the campaign to Moscow. He 
valued her counsel, and often had occasion to admit the 
superiority of her judgment. In these tempestuous days 
of gathering ruin, letters were constantly passing between 
them ; and it was observed that a letter from Josephine 
was rather torn than broken open, so great was the eager- 
ness of Napoleon to receive a line from her. No matter 
how pressing the engagements in which he was involved, 
the moment a letter was received it was read. Josephine 
continued to cherish for Napoleon emotions of the most ar- 
dent affection. With a spirit of self-sacrifice of which the 
world can not afford another example, she most cordially 
rejoiced in the birth of his child. All her own griefs were 
forgotten in seeing Napoleon happy. The emperor often 
called upon her, taking with him his idolized boy, who was 
as great a favorite of Josephine as of the father. In a let- 
ter to Napoleon, she says, " The moment I saw you enter, 



36 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



leading the young Napoleon in your hand, was unquestion- 
ably one of the happiest of my life. It effaced for a time 
the recollection of all that had preceded it, for never have I 
received from you a more touching mark of affection." 

The allied sovereigns even felt such veneration for the 
character of Josephine, that they immediately appointed a 
guard to protect her residence from harm. The Emperor 
Alexander early solicited an interview with her. As she 
received tlie empcj-or with her wonted grace in the gallery 
of Malmaison, he replied, " Madam, I burned with the de- 
sire of beholding you. Since I entered France, I have nev- 
er heard your name pronounced but with benedictions. In 
the cottage and in the palace I have collected accounts of 
your angelic goodness ; and I do myself a pleasure in thus 
presenting to your majesty the universal homage of which 
I am the bearer." 

When Napoleon, deserted by all, was sent to Elba, all 
the warmth of a wife's tender love burst forth anew in the 
bosom of Josephine. She received a very atlectionatc let- 
ter from the emperor. The perusal of it overwhelmed her 
with grief. She exclaimed, " I must not remain here ; my 
presence is necessary to the emperor. That duty is indeed 
more JMaria Louisa's than mine ; but the emperor is alone 
— forsaken. Well, I, at least, will not abandon liim. I 
might be dispensed with while he was happy : now I am 
sure he expects me." She immediately wrote to Napoleon, 
soliciting his permission to share his exile with him. 

" Now only can I calculate the whole extent of the mis- 
fortune of having beheld my union with you dissolved by 
law ; now do I indeed lament being no more than your 
friend, who can but moui'n over a misfortune great as it is 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 37 

unexpected. You will have to mourn over the ingratitude 
and falling away of friends, on whom you deemed you 
could confide. Ah ! sire, why can not I fly to you ? why 
can not I give you the assurance that exile has no terrors 
save for vulgar minds, and that, far from diminishing a 
sincere attachment, misfortune imparts to it new force ? I 
have been on the point of quitting France to follow your 
footsteps, and to consecrate to you the remainder of an ex- 
istence which you so long embellished. A single motive 
restrained me, and that you may divine. If I learn that, 
contrary to all appearance, I am the only one who will ful- 
fill her duty, nothing shall detain me, and I will go to the 
only place where henceforth there can be happiness for me, 
since I shall be able to console you when you are there iso- 
lated and unfortunate ! Say but the word, and I depart. 
Adieu, sire ; whatever I would add would still be too little ; 
it is no longer by ivords that my sentiments for you are to 
be proved, and for actions yom* consent is necessary." 

The fall of Napoleon plunged Josephine into profound 
melancholy. She could not even hear his name pronounc- 
ed without the deepest emotion. Care and sorrow preyed 
so heavily upon her that her health became exceedingly 
precarious. A few days after this letter was written, the 
Emperor Alexander, with a number of distmguished for- 
eigners, dined with Josephine. In the evening the party 
went upon the beautiful lawn in front of the house, to en- 
joy the favorite game of prisoners. Josephine, while striv- 
ing to promote the enjoyment of her guests, took cold. Her 
illness rapidly increased. Alexander, hearing of her dan- 
ger, returned to Malmaison after a week's absence. He 
entered the chamber of Josephine but to find her dying. 

D 



38 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

Eugene and Hortense were kneeling at their mother's bed- 
side, bathed in tears, receiving her farewell blessing. 

It was the 29th of May, 1814. The evening was mild, 
serene, and beautiful. The descending sun spread its 
cheerful beams upon the couch where the empress, pale 
and languid, but with a smile ujion her lips, was breathing 
her last. The trees surrounding her mansion were adorn- 
ed with their richest luxuriance and their most lovely bloom, 
and the western breeze wafted the perfume through the 
open windows to her bed. And the carols of birds, like the 
vespers of paradise, filled the air, and, lulled by these sweet 
songs, tlie spirit of Josephine sunk mto its last repose. 

" My sight grows dim," said the empress ; " a cloud, a 
boundless cloud rises between the world and me ; I am dy- 
ing ; I am insensibly escaping from myself ; though I feel 
that I have but a few moments to live, I know, also, that 
there are eternal years b(^fore me. I might invoke death, 
had not my Maker forbidden me to desire it." 

She called for the portrait of the emperor, gazea upon 
those features she had so tenderly and faithfully loved with 
much emotion, and then folding her hands over her bosom, 
faintly articulated the following prayer : " O God ! watch 
over Napoleon wliile lie remains in the desert of this world. 
Alas ! though he hath committed great faults, hath he not 
expiated them by great sufferings ? If his projects of am- 
bition have given birth to great evils, hath not his genius 
effected great good ? Just God, thou who hast looked into 
his heart, hast seen with how ardent a desire for useful and 
durable improvements he was animated. Deign to approve 
my last petition. And may this image of my husband bear 
me witness that my latest wish, my latest prayer, were for 
him and for my children." 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 39 

Gazing once more upon the portrait of the emperor, she 
exclaimed, " L'isle d'Elbe — Napoleon — " and died. Alex- 
ander, as he contemplated her remains, burst into tears, 
and uttered the following affecting, yet just tribute of re- 
spect to her memory : " She is no more ; that woman whom 
France named the beneficent, that angel of goodness is no 
more. Those who have known Josephine can never forget 
her. She dies regretted by her offspring, her friends, and 
her cotemporaries." The dying scene of Josephine ! How 
harmoniously does it blend with her character and her life ! 

The remains of Josephine were deposited in the Church 
of Ruel, the adjoining village to Malmaison. The prelate 
who performed the funeral obsequies was so intensely affect- 
ed with grief, that tears and sobs often rendered his voice 
inarticulate. All the allied sovereigns paid tributes of re- 
spect to her memory, and she was followed to the tomb by 
countless thousands, with a pomp of sorrow such as earth 
had seldom witnessed before. The place of her burial is 
now marked by a very beautiful white marble monument, 
with this simple yet affecting inscription : 

E U G E \ E AND H O R T E N S E 

TO 

JOSEPHINE. 

In the treaty between Napoleon and the allied powers, 
by which Napoleon renounced for himself and his heirs th6 
throne of France, it was stipulated that Maria Louisa and 
his son should be permitted to accompany him to Elba. 
As the day for his departure drew nigh, and Maria still re- 
n^ained with her father and the allies. Napoleon, supposing 
that she was forcibly detained, refused to move, alleging 



40 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



that the allied powers had violated their compact, and 
threatening to appeal to the army to renew the war. The 
Austrian commissioner solemnly assured him that Maria 
remained behind of her own free will. This most cruel de- 
sertion was felt by the emperor most keenly. He, how- 
ever, was never heard to speak one unkind word of Maria. 
A few sentences only, which escaped his lips at St. Helena, 
showed how deeply his soul was wounded. But a few days 
before, the civilized world seemed to revolve around him in 
homage. Now he was deserted nearly by all, even by his 
own wife and child. His old guard, who had surrounded 
him with their eagles in so many sanguinary conflicts, 
alone remained faithful. 

As the emperor, shorn of his power, descended the great 
stairs of the palace of Fontainebleau, to depart, alone and 
friendless, from the scene of all his past glory to the obscur- 
ity of Elba, his loyal guards were drawn up before the car- 
riages, to bid farewell to the master whom tlu^y had loved 
and served with so much fidelity. Napoleon advanced into 
their midst, perfectly overcome with emotion. Those scar- 
red veterans of a hundred battles gazed upon their beloved 
chieftain with loud sobs and impassioned weepmg. With 
a few trenailous words of tenderness he addressed them. 
Then, with faltering accents and a swimming eye, he ex- 
claimed, " Adieu, my children. I would that I could press 
you all to my heart. I will, at least, embrace your eagle." 
Seizing their standard, he pressed it fervently to his bosom, 
and kissed the eagle. " Adieu once agam, my old com- 
panions," he said; "may this last embrace penetrate your 
hearts." Again, with impassioned tenderness, he enfolded 
the standard in his arms, and then, w^th his eyes filled with 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 41 

tears, sprang into his carriage and drove rapidly away. As 
the rattling of the carriage wheels in the distance died upon 
the ear, the air resounded with the weeping and lamenta- 
tions of these stern warriors. Josephine said that Napo- 
leon was the most fascinating of men. He certainly must 
have had a warm heart of his own, or he never could have 
become so perfectly the master of the affections of others. 

As Napoleon, deserted by his wife and cliild, took his 
solitary way to Elba, often overwhehned with the profound- 
est grief, and again rousing his energies to smile at the 
caprice of fortune, Maria, with the young King of Rome, 
entered her carriage to return to the palaces of her father. 
She was silent and dejected. In an hour, as it were, she 
had been plunged from the very pinnacle of earthly splendor 
into dependence, obscurity, friendlessness, and uncertainty. 
She was extremely solicitous in reference to her future lot. 
By abandoning the ruined fortunes of her husband, she 
hoped to secure for herself a better inheritance than had 
been allowed to him. Alone and ungreeted, she retraced 
the route by which, four years before, she had been con- 
ducted a bride and a queen, surrounded by more than im- 
perial splendor, and welcomed by the acclamations of thirty 
millions of voices. The few remarks, however, which she 
made, showed that her thoughts were intent upon her own 
lost grandeur, and that she had almost forgotten her hus- 
band and her child. She was a daughter of the Caesars, 
and longed for Caesar's share of the loaves and fishes. 

Having arrived in Austria, she took up her residence for 
a time at the chataeu of Schoenbrun, a few mUes from Vi- 
enna, a magnificent pleasure palace belonging to the Aus- 
trian kings. This imperial palace is surrounded with every 

D2 



42 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



enchantment which nature and art can combine. It is the 
summer abode of the Austrian kin2:.s. The edifice, of most 
imposing grandeur, and furnished with magnLficence, cor- 
responding to the wealth and pride of its regal possessors, 
is embowered in extensive gardens, embroidered with grav- 
eled walks of twice the width of a turnpike road, and em- 
bellished with flowers and shrubs of every variety of fra- 
grance and beauty, flanked with majestic forests. Gurg- 
ling streams and sylvan lakes, upon Avhose surface disport 
swans and water-fowl of every variety of plumage, and in 
whose depth myriads of gold-fishes enjoy the luxury of ex- 
istence, arrest the steps of the bewildered and delighted 
visiter. IMarble statues, in inexhaustible profusion, dec- 
orate the serpentine walks and the margin of the lake. 
Twice Napoleon, a resistless coiKpuM-or, had driven the 
Austrian kings from their empire, and had taken possession 
of this palace with his suite. Upon that very bed of roy- 
alty where Napoleon had slept in triumph, the son of Na- 
poleon subsequently slept in dculh. Here the allied sover- 
eigns were assembled, reveling in wine and wassail. In the 
midst of their imperial carousings, with songs and dances, 
and the most voluptuous licentiousness, they were quarrel- 
ing about the division of their booty. The Emperors of 
Austria and Russia, the Kings of Prussia, Denmark, Ba- 
varia, and AVirtemburg ; sovereign dukes and grand-dukes 
without number, and a countless throng of embassadors from 
France, tSpain, Portugal, Italy, and all the countries and 
provinces of Europe, had there gathered in the scramble for 
the spoil of Napoleon. Jeweled courtesans thronged the 
masquerade balls of these royal revelers, and mingled with 
the gorgeous throng upon the Prater in gilded chariots, and 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 43 

glittering with diamonds. Queens in masquerade conde- 
scended to flirtation with the motley yet resplendent crowd, 
and aU hearts were surrendered to the dominion of voluptu- 
ous and forbidden pleasure. It would have been manifestly 
too indecorous for Maria openly to have participated in these 
rejoicings over the WTeck of her own and her husband's for- 
tunes. But, ascending to an attic window, which over- 
looked the grand ball-room, she solaced herself in gazing 
down upon festivities in which she could not participate. 
The veil of oblivion was drawn over her imperial husband, 
and even over her own sorrows, as, like a true daughter of 
Eve, she watched from her peep-hole the flirtations of kings 
and embassadors, of queens and princesses. 

Here glide Metternich and Castlereagh as gay masquer- 
aders, more deeply absorbed for the moment in contempti- 
ble coquetry and faithless amours than in the political ques- 
tions for the decision of which armies were o^atherinsj and 
empires frowning. This gaudy gaUant, surrendering him- 
self to the fascinations of an unknown fair one, is the King 
of Prussia. That flowing pelisse and pictm-esque Hunga- 
rian costume envelop the person of the Emperor of Austria, 
who is dancing to the tune so edifying to his daughter, 
" The downfall of Paris." Maximilian, king of Bavaria, 
mingles in these orgies in the same brilliant costume in 
which Maria had often seen him at the levees of Napoleon, 
doing homage to that imperial spirit, whom these banded 
monarchs now affect to despise. This colossal figure is 
easily recognized as the King of Wirtemberg. The mag- 
nificent domino, resplendent with gold, which is gathered 
so, gracefully around him, can not disguise his gigantic 
frame. And the nimble grisette with whom he is flirt- 



44 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ing is that very Duchess of Oldenburg, whose female jeal- 
ousy was aroused by Napoleon's rejection of her proffered 
hand, and by his marriage with an Austrian princess. " A 
Russian princess," she haughtily says, in her mortification 
and chagrin, " is not to be won like a peasant girl, simply 
by the asking." Unfortunately for her consistency, she 
was offered to Napoleon, and rejected by him. Talleyrand 
stealthily glides through tho.se festive halls, a wily spy, list- 
ening to conversation, detecting the masquers, and report- 
ing each night to the Bourbons all amours and intrigues 
but his own. Upon this scene, from her loop-hole of retreat, 
Maria gazes with wistful eyes. Four years before, in that 
same hall, she had appeared in bridal robes, the central ob- 
ject of attraction, the destined spouse of Napoleon, to as- 
cend a more exalted throne than her imperial ancestors ever 
occupied. Now she was forgotten. 

As Napoleon, from his Lilliputian realm of Elba, con- 
templated the carousals of his banded foes, his lip curled 
with contempt. His mind, so untiring in its energies for 
the promotion of national grandeur ; so absorbed in devo- 
tion to enterprises which should leave a lasting impress 
upon the world, could not but regard with scorn the regal 
fops who were dancinir away their days at Vienna. Alex- 
ander of Russia had the most elevation of character of them 
all. He admired the intellectual supremacy of Napoleon, 
and half regretted that he had joined tlie alliance to dethrone 
the most energetic monarch who had ever swayed a scepter. 
In the Congress, his influence was ever exerted to moderate 
the measures ado])ted in reference to the fallen emperor. 
Ho openly declared, " The Bourbons are now once more 
upon the throne. Let tliem keep there. If they fall again. 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 45 

I shall not lift them up." Maria was in the midst of this 
" mob of kings," eagerly watching her interests and urging 
her claims. 

On the 28th of April, 1814, Napoleon set sail from France 
for his exile in Elba. The nation was soon weary of the 
imbecile Bourbons, who had been imposed upon them by 
foreign troops, and longed for the return of their emperor, 
who commanded the respect of the world. On the 1st of 
March, 1815, Napoleon landed again on the shores of France. 
The Congress of Vienna was still in session. And it is a 
curious illustration of the character of these crowned heads, 
that the announcement that Napoleon had returned — that 
France was welcoming hmi with acclamation — and that 
the terror-stricken Bourbons were fleeing from their throne, 
was received with uncontrollable bursts of laughter. 

The quarrel among the allied monarchs had now risen to 
such a pitch, that they were just on the point of hurling 
their arms upon each other, when the fugitive Bourbons 
appeared among them, pallid with fear, and imploring help. 
The allies were compelled to bury all their animosities in 
combining against the common foe. Maria, fearing that 
her interests might be endangered by this movement of the 
emperor, took very special pains to inform the allies that 
she had no sympathy with Napoleon in his heroic enter- 
prise, and that she would on no account reunite herself with 
him and return to France. But when the army and the 
nation had received Napoleon with shouts of welcome, and 
he was again seated upon the throne where he had reigned 
with so much glory, and all Europe was trembling with 
the apprehension that he would come down upon them with 
terrible retribution, then Maria longed to return to the 



4(J KINGS AND QUEENS. 



grandeur of the Tuileries, and to share again the renown 
of her imperial spouse. But she was ashamed to do so. 
She had so selfishly abandoned him in the hour of misfor- 
tune, that she could not summon sufficient effrontery to 
rush into his embrace in the day of triumph. In the per- 
plexity into which she was thrown by the mingled emotions 
of hope and dread which now oppressed her, she was heard 
to say, as if thinking aloud, "If I could only be assured 
that he would not blame me for not having gone to Elba," 
and then, after a pause, as if in conclusion of a train of in- 
ward thought, " but I am surrounded by persons who can 
not fail to have inculpated me." It was evident that her 
mind was ill at ease, from the many excuses she made to 
those around her for the course she had pursued. She en- 
deavored to appease her own self-reproaches by stating that 
" necessity had compelled her ;" that " she was not mistress 
of her own actions ;" that '* she could not disobey her father ;" 
that " Austrian princesses were merely tools in the hands 
of the family ;" and, fhially, that " she was born under a 
malignant star, and was never destined to be happy." None 
of these excuses, however, could avail to quiet the condemn- 
ing sentence of her own conscience ; and she was at last 
constrained to avow, that, having refused to share Napo- 
leon's disgrace, she was ashamed to partake a prosperity 
which she had done nothmg to promote. There is here a 
glow-worm glimmering of honor. Let Maria be credited 
with it all. She can not afford to part with one particle 
which is her due. 

Chateaubriand had pithily remarked, that " if the cocked 
hat and surtout of Napoleon were placed on a stick on the 
shores of Brest, it would cause Europe to run to arms from 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 47 

one end to the other." The sole of Napoleon's foot had 
hardly touched the soil of France when this saying was 
verified. Europe from one extremity to the other simul- 
taneously resounded with the clangor of arms. The gleam- 
ing banners of Alexander were seen pressing down through 
all the defiles of Russia and of Poland, leading on to the 
conflict three hundred thousand men. Austria sent the 
war-summons with electric energy through all her wide- 
spread dominions into the plains of subjugated Italy, and 
to the remotest hamlets among the Hungarian Mountains, 
and immediately the rumbling of artillery wheels, the clat- 
ter of iron hoofs, and the martial tread of two hundred and 
fifty thousand soldiers resounded along her thoroughfares. 
Prussia, dismembered and exhausted by Herculean efforts, 
raised two hundred thousand men again to meet those 
eagles before whom they had so often fled in dismay. The 
war-cry echoed through all the minor states of Germany. 
From every kingdom, and duchy, and principality, the war- 
like bands issued forth, and the whole interminable host, 
with shouts of defiance and vows of vengeance, poured 
down toward the frontiers of France to meet Napoleon. 
The navy of England unfurled its sails, and vomited forth 
upon the shores of the German Ocean her powerful contri- 
bution for the approachmg shock of battle. Bernadotte, 
with iron nerve and treacherous soul, rallied the half-savage 
legions of Sweden to crush his benefactor. And through 
Denmark, Switzerland, Spain, and Portugal, drums were 
beatmg, trumpets sounding, and city and country were 
filled with gleaming sabers and floating banners, as the 
gathering host rolled on toward the field of conflict. Na- 
poleon's proposals for peace were contemptuously rejected. 



48 KINGS AiND QUEENS. 

All crowned heads united to trample in the dust a sover- 
eign raised to the throne by popular suffrage. It was a 
war of hereditary kings against the right of the people to 
choose their rulers. If France may dethrone the Bourbons 
and elect Napoleon, England may dethrone the Guelph and 
elect a Cromwell " Death to Napoleon !" was the watch- 
word by which monarchical Europe was banded. 

There are few events recorded in history which appear 
to me more to be deplored than the result of the battle of 
Waterloo. The wars of Napoleon were, in the main, un- 
deniably wars of self-defense. The unrelenting and perse- 
vering hostility with which England endeavored to com- 
bine the powers of Europe against the elected Emperor of 
France has not a shadow of justification, and every day the 
verdict of the world upon this subject is becoming more 
unanimous and decisive. With all the faults of Napoleon, 
he was immeasurably superior to the banded kings who 
were struggling, by his overthrow, to support the despotism 
of their thrones. Napoleon, during his short reign, did 
more for the promotion of civil and religious liberty, and 
for the elevation of the masses of the people, than all the 
combined kings of Europe have done for the last three cen- 
turies. The prevailuig impressions of Bonaparte are de- 
rived from the gross caricatures of the English historians 
— ^his inveterate foes. Can Lockhart or Scott, who write 
to flatter national vanity and to please aristocratic ears, 
fairly delineate the character of tlie renowned enemy whom 
that nation has so long delighted to traduce ? As well 
may you expect the Quarterly Review fairly to describe 
Republican America. The most impartial and correct ac- 
count of Napoleon, in the admission of faults as well as 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 49 

virtues, is contained in the brief memorial of our own coun- 
tryman Headley. 

" When I heard of the result of the battle of Waterloo," 
says Robert Hall, "I felt as if the clock of the world had 
gone back six ages. The eyes of all nations were fixed 
upon the spot where the armies of Christendom were con- 
centrating for the decisive conflict. On the one side were 
all the banded monarchs of Europe. On the other was 
Napoleon. The match was almost an equal one. A morn- 
ing of the peaceful Sabbath ushered in the dreadful conflict. 
During all the long hours of that sacred day, till the sun 
was descending, the battle raged with sanguinary ferocity. 
At every point Napoleon was victorious, and the mangled, 
wavering lines before him gave assurance that the eagles 
of France were again triumphant. Wellington, as he gazed 
upon his melting columns, trembled before the genius of 
Napoleon, and, wiping the cold sweat of agony from his 
brow, exclaimed, ' Oh ! that Blucher or night were come !' 
The foaming couriers of the emperor were on their way to 
Paris with the tidings of the victory." 

At that eventful hour, a black mass of thirty thousand 
Prussians suddenly appeared, headed by Blucher, and pour- 
ed down like an avalanche upon the field of battle. The 
troops of Napoleon, exhausted by the Herculean toil of the 
day, unable to resist this new onset, were, after the most 
desperate resistance, overwhelmed and swept away. All 
was lost. Maria, from the palaces of Vienna, looked on, 
apparently with imperturbable equanimity, as the star of 
her husband's glory paled and faded away on the field of 
Waterloo. His defeat relieved her mind from serious em- 
barrassment. She moved smilingly amid the group of his 

E 



50 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

exulting foes, and even appeared in public leaning upon 
the arm of the Duke of Wellington. There is no evidence 
that she shed a tear, or experienced an emotion of regret, 
as her husband was borne, like a caged lion, to that barren 
rock which was to be his prison and his grave. Not one 
word of sympathy or tenderness was sent to him from Ma- 
ria, as he bade adieu to every object he held dear upon 
earth, and entered upon a doom more intolerable than death. 
Napoleon had hardly arrived at that dreary rock where in 
misery he was to wear away the few remaining years of 
his life, when Maria Louisa, highly elated with her own 
good fortmie, departed from Vienna in gilded chariots, sur- 
rounded with fawning favorites, to enjoy her possessions as 
Duchess of Parma. She assumed no garb of mourning. 
She affected no grief of bereavement and widowhood. Con- 
gratulating herself that her lines had fallen to her in pleas- 
ant places, and that she had a goodly heritage, she allowed 
no pleasures to be marred by unavailing regrets. Forget- 
ting her imperial husband on that dreary rock which his 
sufferings have immortalized, forgetting her son, born to so 
exalted a destiny, more splendidly, but none the less inglo- 
riously, an exile and a prisoner in Vienna, she surrendered 
herself, with a most amiable philosophy, to all the enjoy- 
ments within her reach. 

Colonel Neipperg, a Hungarian count, had been appoint- 
ed by the Austrian cabinet to accompany Maria Louisa to 
Parma. He was to do all in his power to divert her mind 
from the grandeur from which she had fallen, and to lure 
her to all the public and private haunts of festivity. His 
task was easy and agreeable ; and faithfully he performed 
his mission. The silvery lake is gilded by romantic moon- 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 51 

light. The soft air of an Italian summer invites to an ex- 
cursion upon the water. The boat glides over the unrip- 
pled surface, which shows a concave of moon, and stars, 
and fathomless immensity beneath as above. Soft music 
of flutes, and still more liquid voices, floats upon the cool 
zephyrs, Maria reclines upon the cushioned seats, leaning 
upon the arm of Neipperg, and yields herself to the luxury 
of the hour. How can she send her imagination from that 
scene of enchantment to the foggy, storm-swept, rain- 
drenched rock where Napoleon is imprisoned ? 

A pleasure jaunt is planned to Genoa. The ducal char- 
iot is drawn by prancing steeds gayly caparisoned. Liv- 
eried servants and outriders, with glittering sabers and in 
rich uniform, compose the splendid cortege. The brilliant 
vision sweeps along through the ever-varying scenes of 
Italy. In the luxurious carriage of the young duchess sits 
Neipperg, by the side of Maria. They read — they talk 
— they sing. 

Looks of affectionate recognition are interchanged, and 
words of tenderness are uttered. Thousands of leagues of 
stormy ocean intervene between Maria and Napoleon. She 
can never see him again. Why, then, should she think of 
him any more ? Marriage, says infidel Europe, is a part- 
nership, to be formed or dissolved at pleasure. My part- 
nership with Napoleon, thinks Maria, is dissolved by his 
absence. Why may I not form another ? The world will 
condemn, whispers an inward voice. Then I will not tell 
the world, thinks Maria. Maria wants counsel in affairs 
of state. Neipperg is at hand to give direction to her wav- 
ering purpose, and the cabinet council is prolonged late into 
tbe hours of the night. She wishes to stroll along the 



KINGS AND QUEENS. 



banks of the romantic stream, or ascend the mountain. 
The accommodating count lends her his hand, and supports 
her by his protecting arm. 

Maria loves not solitude, and would avoid meditation. 
She would walk in the garden, and desires a friend on 
whose arm she can lean, and who will beguile her thoughts. 
Neipperg is on the alert. They saunter among the shrub- 
bery which fringes the serpentine walks, and recline till the 
stars gem the sky, in bowers fragrant with the perfume of 
every odoriferous plant. Oh ! if one could only forget. 
Maria could forget. Maria was an Epicurean. The pleas- 
ure-loving philosophy is very comfortable to those who have 
no souls. The daughter of the CiBsars had no soul. Sur- 
rendering herself to all the seductions of momentary enjoy- 
ment, her slumbering spirit was undisturbed either by an- 
guish or remorse. And yet the living- agony of some minds 
is far preferable to the dead repose of others. 

True, Neipperg was a stiff, formal Hungarian soldier. 
The automaton manners of the camp had left their coarse 
impress upon him. One eye had been torn out by a bullet, 
and a black patch covered the deformity. He was twenty 
years older than Maria, and had no attractions of body or 
of mind to win a generous woman's love. The flexible 
heart of Maria, however, gladly sought solace for its volun- 
tary widowhood with this unalluring courtier. Floating 
upon the current of self-indulgence, she endeavored, with 
timbrels and dances, to beguile life of its cares. Reveling 
in scenes of festivity, and luxuriating upon velvet sofas, 
she hugged her comforts, and heeded not the storms which 
howled around the eternal crags of her Imsband's prison. 
Consigning Napoleon to the grave of oblivion, and forget- 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 53 

ting that she had ever been a wife, a mother, and an em- 
press, she yielded herself to the seductions of each passing 
hour. 

And yet, who that has an emotion of honorable feeling 
would not infinitely prefer to have been Napoleon, listen- 
ing to the dirge of careering storms and dashing wave upon 
the sea-engirdled, mist-enveloped rock, rather than to have 
been Maria, in her ducal palace, on the sunny plains of 
Italy, breathing the fragrance of violets, and lulled to slum- 
ber by the soft music of the lute. Maria I though thou 
wert cradled in the palaces of the Caesars, it was, indeed, 
an ignoble spirit which chose thy frame as its tabernacle. 

Yet, after all, it must be confessed that the soulless and 
the heartless glide comfortably through such a world as 
this. If they know nothing of the deeper excitements and 
nobler emotions of our nature, they are also saved from 
those intensities of suffering which at times will almost 
wring the life-blood from the sensitive heart. The terrific 
storm of temptation never " wrecks their sky ;" the anguish 
of conscious frailty and wrong-doing never lacerates their 
hearts. Like the stalled ox, they ruininate in sunshine 
and storm, and die in peace. 

A secret marriage, it is commonly reported, was soon 
consummated between Maria and Count Neipperg, which 
was publicly recognized soon after the death of Napoleon. 
Three childi-en have been the issue of this union : the eld- 
est, a daughter, is married to an Italian count, grand cham- 
berlain of Parma ; a son, the Count de Monti Nauvoo, is 
an officer in the Austrian army ; a second daughter died 
in infancy. Ten years ago Count Neipperg died, and 
Mkria was again left a widow. 

E2 



r.4 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



When, some four years ago, the remains of Napoleon 
were brought from St. Helena, to repose on the banks of 
the Seine, the eyes of the civilized world were directed to 
the sublime spectacle. The French nation arose, as one 
man, to do homage to the dust of their mighty emperor. 
The gray-headed survivors of the Old Guard, who had 
proved faithful to Napoleon through his reverses, came tot- 
tering to meet their beloved ciiieftain, now returning tri- 
umphant, though in death. The king, the royal family, 
the nobility, the people in city and in country, all came, a 
mourning nation, to honor the luemory of Napoleon. A 
scene of surpassing moral sublimity earth has seldom, if 
ever, witnessed. As in solemn pomp the remains of the 
emperor were conveyed tiirough the streets of the capital, 
where he had so often moved the most powerful of mon- 
archs, all the sons and daughters of France bowed their 
heads in sorrow as children weeping over a father's sepul- 
chre. 

Maria, in her ducal palace, was at so short a distance 
from France that she could almost hear the muffled drums, 
the tolling bells, the booming of the caiuions, and the solemn 
requiems by which the ashes of her husband were so mourn- 
fully welcomed to the land over wiiich he so gloriously 
reigned. Under the majestic dome of the Invalides, which 
his own energy had reared, the body of Napoleon now slum- 
bers, awaiting the resurrection. 

But the widow of Napoleon could take no part in these 
impressive scenes. Maria discreetly decided to r<'inain at 
home. And when a nation we])t at the burial of her im- 
perial husband, she sat listless in her palace, with unmoist- 
ened eye and unmoved heart. 



JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 55 



Had Josephine been then livino^, every eye would have 
turned to her ; she would have been the prominent mourner ; 
and sorrowing France would have bowed before her in ven- 
eration. One can almost see the faithful spirit of Jose- 
phine arise from the grave to welcome her returning hus- 
band, and to invite him to slumber in death by her side. 

A few years ago the young King of Rome, who had re- 
ceived from the Austrian court the title of the Duke of 
Reichstadt, died, at the age of eighteen. He had been 
reared at Vienna, forgotten by his mother, and carefully 
guarded against all knowledge of the heroic character and 
achievements of his imperial father. As tlie name of Bo- 
naparte was still a word of terror to the thrones of Europe, 
his vmtimely death was probably regarded with satisfaction 
by all crowned heads. It is not improbable that the son of 
Napoleon was borne to the tomb unaccompanied by a single 
mourner. His birth was hailed by the acclamation of thirty 
millions, and received the congratulations of every court in 
Europe. His death was unnoticed and unlamented. 

On the 17th of December, 1847, came the closmg scene 
in the life of Maria. 8he had passed through fifty-seven 
years. At the silent hour of midnight, with listless attend- 
ants around her pillow, she breathed her last, and departed 
to that tribunal where we all in turn must appear. The 
world had long forgotten her. She had neither enemies 
nor friends. Her death caused none to mourn, and none 
but those who inherited her estate to rejoice. Requiescat 
in pace. 

" So live, that, sinking in thy last long sleep, 
Smiles may be thine, while all around thee weep." 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 



Louis Philippe. 



T 



HERE is no romance equal to the romance of real life. 
No imagination can produce changes and combinations so 
wonderful as those which are continually turned up to us 
by life's kaleidoscope. The personal and political history 
of Louis Philippe presents one of the most strangely check- 
ered dramas which has ever been enacted on the stage of 
time. Deeply as we may be interested in the biography 
of those who have influenced the destinies of past genera- 
tions, we have a peculiar and far deeper interest in minds 
now active, framing the laws, guiding the armies, and 
molding the manners of the age in which we live. There 
is probably no one now on life's busy theater who, from 
his personal character, his eventful history, and his impor- 
tant and perilous position, is more deserving the attention 
of intelligent minds, than he who has for the last eighteen 
years sat upon the volcanic throne of France, endeavoring 
to smother or to control the restless fires by which that 
throne is ever shaken. 

Louis Philippe was born in his father's splendid resi- 
dence, the Palais Royal in Paris, on the 6th of October, 1773. 
His father, the Duke of Orleans, was the richest man in 
Europe, and of royal blood. He, embracing the infidel 
philosophy so prevalent at those times, devoted the re- 
sources of his boundless wealth to the most unrestrained 
iiidulgence in the pursuit of pleasure. The mother of Louis 

F 61 



62 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

was as distinguished for her piety and virtues as was his 
father for his reckless dissipation. She, surrounded by 
more than regal magnificence, saw all her hopes of earthly 
happiness blighted, and, broken-hearted, as the only re- 
maining solace of life, devoted all her attention to the cul- 
ture of her children. Louis Philippe was her eldest child ; 
and the influence of this good mother has been the controll- 
ing genius of his eventful life. 

He was early placed under the tuition and care of the 
celebrated Madame de Genlis. She w"as unwearied in her 
endeavors, and wonderfully successful in giving him a high- 
ly-cultivated mind, strong moral principle, the power of self- 
restraint, and a vigorous constitution. One of the effectual 
modes by which Madame de Genlis taught her pupil to ex- 
amine his heart, and regulate his conduct and his thoughts, 
was by keeping a very minute daily journal. This daily 
self-exammation was conducted with great fidelity. The 
following questions, written in his journal, were read to 
him every evening, and to each one he returned an answer 
in writing : 

1. Have I this day fulfilled all my duties toward God 
my Creator, and prayed to him with fervor and affection ? 

2. Have I listened with respect and attention to the in- 
structions which have been given me to-day with regard to 
my Christian duties and reading works of piety ? 

3. Have I fulfilled all my duties this day toward those I 
ought to love most in the world, my father and my mother ? 

4. Have I behaved with mildness and kindness toward 
my sister and my brothers ? 

5. Have I been docile, grateful, and attentive to my 
teachers ? 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 63 



6. Have I been perfectly sincere to-day, disobliging no 
one, and speaking evil of no one ? 

7. Have I been as discreet, prudent, charitable, modest, 
and courageous as may be expected at my age ? 

8. Have I shown no proof of that weakness and effemi- 
nacy which is so contemptible in a man ? 

9. Have I done all the good I could ? 

10. Have I shown all the marks of attention I ought to 
the persons, present or absent, to whom I owe kmdness, 
respect, and affection? 

Every evening these questions were proposed to Louis 
by his teacher, and to each one he recorded the answer in 
his journal. This exercise was followed by a season of de- 
votion, in which the young prince sought of God the pardon 
of his sins, and implored divine grace and assistance for the 
future. 

Such was the moral and intellectual training of a youth 
of sixteen. In the midst of the most voluptuous court of 
Europe, surrounded by the most dazzling allurements of 
gilded vice, with the notorious Duke of Orleans for his 
father, young, sanguine, rich, and of excellent birth, pro- 
tected by this discipline, he moved uncontaminated through 
all these dangerous scenes, and has, for half a century, sus- 
tained a character of the most irreproachable and the pur- 
est morality. In one passage of his private journal, which 
was taken with other of his papers durmg the revolution 
and published, he writes, " O my mother ! how I bless you 
for having preserved me from those vices and misfortunes 
into which so many young men fall, by inspiring me with 
that sense of religion which has been my whole support." 

' In allusions to the trials and privations of his life. Mad- 



64 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ame de Genlis says, " How often, since his misfortunes, 
have I applauded myself for the education I have given 
him ; for havmg taught him the principal modern langua- 
ges ; for having accustomed him to wait on himself, to de- 
spise all kinds of effeminacy, to sleep habitually on a wooden 
bed, with no covering but a mat ; to expose himself to heat, 
cold, and rain ; to accustom himself to fatigue by daily and 
violent exercise, and by walking ten or fifteen miles with 
leaden soles to his shoes, and, finally, for having given him 
the taste and habit of traveling. He had lost all that he 
had inherited from buth and fortune; nothing remained 
but what he had received from nature and me." 

Well might Louis Philippe feel grateful for the maternal 
care which had thus watched over and protected him. Had 
he fallen into the practices of the dissipated youth of his 
tune, with an enfeebled miiid and body, he never would 
have been able to have borne up under the anguish, and to 
survive the hardships of his long years of poverty and exile. 
Here was laid the foundation of that greatness of character, 
which has borne him triumphantly through the stormiest 
scenes, and has finally elevated him to the highest point of 
earthly influence and honor. 

Speaking of his progress and character under her tuition, 
the Countess de Genlis observes : " The Duke of Chartres 
has greatly improved in disposition during the past year ; 
he was born with good mclinations, and has now become 
intelligent and virtuous. Possessing none of the frivolities 
of the age, he disdains the puerilities which occupy the 
thoughts of so many young men of rank, such as fashions, 
dress, trinkets, follies of all kinds, and a desire for novel- 
ties. He has no passion for money ; he is disinterested ; 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 



despises glare ; and is, consequently, truly noble. Finally, 
he has an excellent heart, which is common to his brothers 
and sister, and which, joined to reflection, is capable of pro- 
ducing all other good qualities." 

At the commencement of the French Revolution, Louis 
Philippe, though but sixteen years of age, became a warm 
advocate of republican liberty. From the mtellectual train- 
ing he had received, he had, at that age, unusual maturity 
of character. As active colonel in a regiment of dragoons, 
he was soon found at the head of his regiment in the thick- 
est dangers of many battles. In the bloody conflict of Jo- 
mappes, and in the fearful cannonade of Valmy, this beard- 
less youth, under the veteran General Dumourier, bore a 
conspicuous share in the toil and peril of the fight. 

"Louis Philippe," says Lamartine, " had no youth. Ed- 
ucation suppressed this age in the pupils of Madame de 
Genlis. Reflection, study, premeditation of every thought 
and act, replaced nature by study, and instinct by wiU. At 
seventeen years of age the young prince had the maturity 
of advanced years." When the law was enacted by the 
Constituent Assembly suppressing the right of promigeni- 
ture, which law deprived him of the enormous patrimony 
he would otherwise have obtained, he embraced his brother 
and exclaimed, "It is a good law which lets brothers lovo 
each other without jealousy ! It only enjoins upon me 
what my heart had done before. You all know that na- 
ture had created that law between us." His appearance 
is thus described : " His stature was lofty, his frame weU 
knit, his appearance serious and thoughtful. The eleva- 
tion of his brow, the blue hue of his eyes, the oval face, and 
the majestic, though somewhat heavy outline of his chin, 

F 2 



66 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



reminded every one strongly of the Bourbon family. The 
bend of his neck, the modest carriage, the mouth slightly 
drawn down at each corner, the penetratmg glance, the 
wmnmg smile, and the ready repartee, gamed him the at- 
tention of the people. His familiarity — martial with the 
officers, patriotic with the citizens, soldierly with the sol- 
diers — caused them to forgive him for bemg a prince. But 
beneath the exterior of a soldier of the people lurked the 
arriere pensee of a prince of the blood, and he plunged into 
all the events of the Revolution with the entire yet skillful 
abandon of a master mind. And it seemed as though he 
knew beforehand that events dash to pieces those who re- 
sist them, but that revolutions, like the ocean's waves, often 
restore men to the spot whence they tore them." 

As the French Revolution advanced into the regions of 
anarchy, and the Reign of Terror held its carnival in blood- 
stained Paris, General Dumourier conceived the design of 
arresting its horrors by elevating the youth Louis Philippe 
to the throne, upon which Louis the Sixteenth had just 
been beheaded. The royal lineage of the young prince, his 
patrimonial wealth, his popularity as a known republican, 
favored the enterprise. Whether the youthful Louis par- 
ticipated in this plan is unknown. But the effect was, to 
direct the terrible anger of the revolutionary tribunal against 
the whole Orleans family. His father was dragged from 
his magnificent domain, the Palais Royal, to the guillotine. 
His two younger brothers, under circumstances of the most 
atrocious barbarity, were plunged into a dungeon at Mar- 
seilles. His mother, sister, and revered instructor, Madame 
de Genlis, became the subjects of the most rigorous perse- 
cution. 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 67 



On the 6th of November, the Duke of Orleans, father 
of Louis Philippe, was seized, on the plea of conspiring 
against the nation. On the 6th of November, he was 
brought before the revolutionary tribunal, and, after a 
mock trial, condemned to death, on a series of charges, of 
all which he was notoriously guiltless. 

"Viewing the proceedings of his judges with contempt, 
he begged, as an only favor, that the sentence might be exe- 
cuted without delay. The indulgence was granted, and he 
was led, at four o'clock, when the daylight was about fail- 
ing, from the com-t to the guillotine. An eye-witness on 
this tragic occasion mentions that, prompted by barbarous 
curiosity, he took his station in the Rue St. Honore, oppo- 
site the palace of the duke, in order to observe the effect 
which, at his last moments, these scenes of former splendor 
and enjoyment might have upon him. 

" The crowd was immense, and aggravated, by its unjust 
reproaches and insults, the agony of the sufferer. The fatal 
cart advanced at so slow a pace, that it seemed as if they 
were endeavormg to prolong his torments. There were 
many other victims of revolutionary cruelty in the same 
vehicle. They were all bent double, pale, and stupefied 
with horror. Orleans alone — -a striking contrast — with hair 
powdered, and otherwise dressed with care in the fashion of 
the period, stood upright, his head elevated, his countenance 
full of its natural color, with all the firmness of innocence. 
The cart, for some reason, stopped for a few minutes before 
the gate of the Palais Royal, and the duke ran his eyes 
over the building with the tranquil air of a master, as if 
examining whether it required any additional ornament or 
repair. The courage of the intrepid man faltered not at 



68 KINGS AND QUEEN8. 



the place of execution. When the executioner took off his 
coat, he cahnly observed to the assistants who were going 
to draw off his boots, ' It is only loss of time ; you will re- 
move them more easily from the lifeless limbs.' In a few 
minutes he was no more. Thus died, in the prime of life — 
his forty-sixth year — the rash and imprudent, though hon- 
est Philippe Egalite, addmg by his death one to the long list 
of those who perished from the effects of a political whirl- 
wind which they had contributed to raise." 

Alison, in his description of these scenes, says that the 
duke was detained for more than a quarter of an hour be- 
fore his palace by order of Robespierre, who had solicited 
in vam his daughter's hand in marriage, and who had prom- 
ised that, if he would even then consent to the union, he 
would save his life. For twenty minutes tlie duke thus re- 
mained, honorably refusmg to save his life by the sacrifice 
of his daughter to such a monster. This daughter, the il- 
lustrious sister of Louis Philippe, Madame Adelaide, died 
December 30th, 1847, at the age of seventy years. She 
was a woman of rare intelligence and virtue ; she had been 
almost the constant companion of her brother for more than 
half a century ; in the midst of all his wonderful reverses, 
his ever-safe adviser, and her death overwhelmed Louis 
Philippe with grief. 

From these scenes Louis Philippe fled for life to Switz- 
erland, all his immense property confiscated, an immigrant, 
and penniless. The Swiss government, trembling before 
the gigantic power of revolutionary France, feared to afford 
an asylum to a nobleman who had incurred its displeasure. 
In disguise, and under a feigned name, he passed many 
lonely months wandering about on foot among the fast- 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 69 



nesses of the Alps. But, trained to toil, and educated to 
fortitude of mind, it is said that his mental resolution did 
not fail him while thus hunted as a fugitive and an outlaw 
over the cliffs and through the ravines of Switzerland. 
While thus eluding his Argus-eyed enemies, a friend secured 
for him the situation of a teacher of a village school, under 
the borrowed name of Corby. Thus Louis Philippe, cradled 
among the magnificence of the Palais Royal ; inheritmg by 
birth the titles and the princely revenues of the Duke of 
Orleans ; the leader of the armies of France in many tri- 
umphant battles ; the candidate of the throne of the Bour- 
bons, toiled early and late, for fifteen months, in this ob- 
scure village, instructing in geography and arithmetic. 

And could he have remained in this secluded retreat, 
" from noise and tumult far," in the enjoyment of a quiet 
home and a contented mind, his days would have glided 
away far more happily than can have been the case in the 
brilliant and stormy scenes through which he has since been 
led. 

At length, alarmed by the earnestness wih which his en- 
emies were searching for him m all parts of Europe, he re- 
solved to embark for America, the asylum alike of kings 
and beggars. With that design he went to Hamburg, but 
was there unable to raise money to pay the expenses of his 
passage. There was no safety for him in any other portion 
of the south of Europe. As the only retreat open for him, he 
set out, alone and on foot, in friendlessness and poverty, to 
traverse the dreary regions of Denmark, Sweden, Norway, 
and Lapland, eating the black crusts, and sleeping in the 
huts of semi-barbarians, with all the powers of revolution- 
afy France, Hive blood-hounds, baying in his track, and thus 



70 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



he actually pushed on through the ices and the storms of 
those dismal solitudes, five degrees nearer to the pole than 
any other Frencli traveler had ever done. 

At length, his mother succeeded in forwarding a letter 
to hun, with some funds, and he immediately embarked for 
this country. In the month of October, 1796, the youthful 
Duke of Orleans landed upon the wharves of Philadelphia, 
in friendless and almost penniless exile. He remained in 
this country and the West Indies about four years. While 
here, he traveled extensively througli most of the states of 
the Union, and in an open boat descended the Mississippi. 
He occasionally received remittances from Europe, but at 
times, from the failure of these remittances, he was in a 
state of destitution. While in this country, he passed some 
time in Boston. His finances while in America were at 
times so low, that he supported himself by teaching classes 
in French. It is said that to the present hour he speaks 
with gratitude of the sympathy and kindness he received 
from various gentlemen in this country, in those dark days 
of adversity. 

The brother who accompanied the Duke of Orleans in 
his travels in the United States, wrote the following letter 
from Philadelphia to his sister, dated the 14th of August, 
1797. 

" I hope you received the letter which we wrote you from 
Pittsburg two months ago. We were then in the midst 
of a great journey, which it took us two months to accom- 
plish. We traveled, during that time, a thousand leagues, 
and always upon the same horses, except the last hundred 
leagues, which we performed partly by water, partly on foot, 
partly upon hu-ed horses, and partly by the stage or public 



LOUIS I'HlLll'PE. 71 



conveyance. We have seen many Indians, and we remain- 
ed several days in their country. They received us with 
great kindness, and our national character contributed not 
a little to this good reception, for they love the French. 
After them we found the Falls of Niagara, which I wrote 
you from Pittsburg we were about to visit, the most inter- 
esting object upon our journey. It is the most surprising 
and majestic spectacle I have ever seen. I have taken a 
sketch of it, and I intend to paint a picture in water colors 
from it, which my dear little sister will certainly see at our 
tender mother's ; but it is not yet commenced, and will 
take me much time, for truly it is no small work. T» 
give you an idea of the agreeable manner in which they 
travel in this country, I will tell you, my dear sister, that 
we passed fourteen nights in the woods, devoured by all 
kinds of insects, after being wet to the bone, without being 
able to dry ourselves ; and eating pork, and sometimes a 
little salt beef and corn bread." 

From this country Louis Philippe went to England, and 
there joined the surviving members of the exiled royal fam- 
ily, their sense of political differences being lost in their 
common misfortunes ; for, though Louis Philippe was by 
birth a Bourbon, and a foe to Napoleon, he always advo- 
cated republican institutions. 

One day, the King of Sicily came into the apartment 
where his wife and daughter were sitting, with a letter, 
iuformmg him of the wanderings of this unfortunate prince. 
Becoming interested in his story, he proposed inviting him 
to his court. The ladies, of course, acceded to a proposal 
in which the claims of real benevolence came with the re- 
sistless zest of the most chivalrous romance. In a short 



72 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



time, consequently, Louis was reposing in the palace of the 
Sicilian king. 

In the romance of real life, as well as in that of the im- 
agination, there must always be a wedding. It was so in 
this case. It so happened that the Princess Amelia, young, 
beautiful, and amiable, soon found the sympathy with which 
she regarded her father's illustrious guest deepening into a 
stronger and more tender emotion, and, with the approval 
of her parents, she yielded to the solicitations of Louis Phil- 
ippe to accept the title of the Duchess of Orleans, with the 
necessary contingencies. Though Louis was a friendless 
exile, driven from his patrimonial estates, the Princess 
Amelia had the good sense to see and appreciate his intel- 
lectual endowments, and the moral purity with which his 
character was elevated and adorned. The lapse of a few 
months witnessed the Sicilian court illuminated and rejoi- 
cing over their espousals ; rare espousals in the courts of 
princes, where the mercenary barterings of ambition were 
unthought of, and youthful and congenial hearts were wed- 
ded in instinctive sympathy and love. Thus the storms of 
past adversity were forgotten as the tempestuous waters of 
his life were lulled mto a short and happy calm. 

Soon after this event. Napoleon was defeated by the al- 
lied powers, and virtually imprisoned on the island of Elba. 
The Bourbons reascended the throne. The confiscated es- 
tates of Louis Philippe were restored to him, and, with joy 
unutterable, he led his happy bride, whom in poverty he had 
wooed and wedded, to his native land, to share with him 
his princely estates and his exalted honors. In the uniform 
of a lieutenant-general of France, and at the head of the 
nobility of the realm, he again entered the regal palace 



LOUIS THILIPPE. 73 



where his infancy was nurtured. Halls of grandeur were 
again spread around him ; boundless wealth emptied into 
his lap, the peerage of Europe felt honored by his hospi- 
talities, and kings and queens were guests in his princely 
saloons. 

He was thus living in the enjoyment of the most perfect 
domestic tranquillity, rejoicing in the hope that the storms 
of his life were over forever, when suddenly the political 
heavens gathered new blackness. Another tempest came 
careering on with resistless fury, and he was driven from 
his regal mansion, from Paris, from France, and again found 
himself in poverty and exile. Napoleon landed on the 
French coast, marched triumphantly to Paris, and his en- 
emies were scattered before him like the herded sheep when 
the lion leaps into their mclosures. 

The battle of Waterloo replaced the Bourbons on the 
throne of France, and agaui restored to Louis PhUippe his 
sequestered estates. Once more he returned from exile to 
honor, from poverty to the Palais Royal. Tired of revolu- 
tions, and weary of the strife of parties, he now sought re- 
pose. Declining all connection with political movements, 
he devoted himself to the improvement of his extensive 
possessions. His hospitable mansion became the resort of 
distinguished men of all nations and of all parties, and es- 
pecially an asylum for the victims of political persecution. 
Such was the position of the Duke of Orleans, when another 
mural earthquake shook France to its center, and this time, 
instead of overwhelming Louis in ruin, elevated him to the 
highest pinnacle of rank and power. 

To understand this new event, we must, for a moment, 
tursi back the page of history. When Louis XVI. was be- 

G 



74 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



headed, during the French Revolution, his only son was 
taken by the Revolutionists, and put to service to a shoe- 
maker, where he soon died, at ten years of age, of inhuman 
treatment. Tliis young and suffering prince, while toiling 
at the slioemaker's bench, was still regarded by the Loyalists 
of Europe as the legitimate King of France, under the title 
of Louis XVII. The two brothers of Louis XVI. escaped 
to England, where they remained in exile during Napo- 
leon's triumphant career. Upon the death of the unfortu- 
nate child, Louis XVII., the Loyalists proclaimed the eldest 
of the two exiled brothers as King of France, with the title 
of Louis XVIII. AVhcn the allied armies marched mto 
Paris, they took with them Louis XVIII., and placed him 
upon tlie tlirone of his ancestors. The great majority of 
the nation felt indignant and disgraced in havmg a kmg im- 
posed upon them by foreign powers. But the arm of Na- 
poleon was broken. They had no chieftam around whom 
to rally. The armies of combined Europe were quartered 
in their capital. Nothing remained for them but submis- 
sion. Yet the loud murmurs of discontent were continu- 
ally ascending around the throne of the hated Bourbon. 
Louis XVIII. remained upon the throne but a few years, 
when he died, childless, and, consequently, the crown passed 
to his surviving brother Charles. In the year 1824, Charles 
X., with groat pomp, but with few and feeble acclamations, 
was enthroned King of France. But his subjects could 
not forget that he was a Bourbon — that the nation had 
twice driven his family from the throne. French pride was 
tortured by the consciousness that, after aU their briUiant 
victories, after all their national boasting and glory, hostile 
armies had conquered them, marched triumphantly into 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 



their capital, robbed them of Napoleon, the monarch of their 
choice, and by their artillery and their bayonets had com- 
pelled them to submit to the sway of a hated race, 

France, with about twice as many inhabitants as the 
United States then had, had but one popular assembly, con- 
sisting of two houses, the Chamber of Deputies and the 
Chamber of Peers, corresponding in some degree with our 
general Congress. There are in France no provincial bodies 
analogous to our State Legislatures ; and the active minds 
of the nation have no means of communicating with the 
people but through the press. The weekly newspapers of 
France consequently employed the pens of her ablest wi-iters 
and her leading statesmen. The peculiar mode of life in 
Paris greatly favors an extensive acquaintance with the pub- 
lic journals. Thousands daily frequent the coffee-houses, 
where the journals are spread before them. In all parts 
of the city, m all the places of refreshment, in the public 
walks and gardens, little pavilions are tenanted, where the 
citizen or the stranger can, by the payment of a penny, 
read any of the journals or pamphlets of the day. These 
resorts are greatly multiplied in times of political excite- 
ment, and attract, in immense crowds, the roving and un- 
settled populace of Paris. 

Charles X. was a gentlemanly and good-natured old man, 
but obstinate and in his dotage. There is not a little truth 
in the antithesis that, durmg his exile, he remembered every 
thing he ought to have forgotten, and forgot every thing he 
ought to have remembered. Seeing and fearing the head- 
way which liberal opinions were making in France, he had 
the folly to appoint a ministry, each individual of which 
was a known opponent of liberal principles, and especially 



7G KINGS AND QUEENS. 



obnoxious to the French people. The public press imme- 
diately opened upon this ministry the most harassing and 
merciless warfare. Charles, annoyed and irritated by the 
loud and continued demonstrations of the public hatred, 
with a degree of insanity of which we can hardly find a 
parallel even in the folly of princes, determined to abolish 
the freedom of the press, and silence these voices of the na- 
tion. 

One Monday morning in July, 1830, tlie Moniteur, the 
government paper, appeared with an ordinance declaring, 
among other obnoxious articles, that at all times the peri- 
odical press has been, and it is in its nature to be, only an 
instrument of disorder and sedition. It therefore declared 
that the freedom of the press was no longer to be permitted, 
but that it was placed under the censorship of the govern- 
ment. Upon the appearance of this execrable ordinance, 
excitement and indignation flamed like a conflagration 
through every lane and alley of the city. Thousands began 
to assemble around the reading-shops. The great thorough- 
fares leading to the public squares of the city, to the garden 
of the Tuileries, and the Palais Royal, were thronged with 
the roused masses, crowding to these foci of intelligence. 
Readers, mounted upon barrels and chairs, loudly read the 
government ordinance to the gathering multitude. 

As the police endeavored to arrest a man who was read- 
ing the new laws to the excited crowd, he indignantly re- 
plied, " I am only blowing the trumpet : if you dislike the 
notes, go settle the matter with those who composed the 
music." During the day, the appearance of serious popular 
commotion became more and more threatening. As the 
shades of night darkened the streets of the inflamed city, 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 



cries of " Live the Constitution !" " Down with the Bour- 
bons !" " Death to the ministry !" resounded through the 
gloom. As the mounted troops of the king were driving 
the gathering people from one of the streets, the populace 
seized upon a passing omnibus, overturned it, and, throwing 
around it such articles of heavy furniture as could be gath- 
ered from the adjoining dwellings, formed a barricade which 
effectually arrested the progress of the troops. Behind this 
barricade they valiantly defended themselves with paving 
stones and every missile within their reach. Instantane- 
ously every mind saw the efficacy of this measure. The 
lamps lighting the city were dashed, and the populace toiled 
the livelong night in the mystery of darkness, making ar- 
rangements for the conflict of the morrow. Crowds of stu- 
dents from the military schools thronged the streets, filling 
the midnight air with the Marseilles Hymn, those spirit- 
stirring words, which in the old revolution so often roused 
the multitude to frenzy. Wo insert here a vigorous trans- 
lation of the four verses most frequently sung. 

JMARSEILLES HYMN. 

L 
Ye sons of France, awake to gloiy ! 

Hark ! hark ! what myriads bid yon rise ; 
Your children, wives, and grandsires hoaiy. 

Behold their tears and hear their cries ! 
Shall hateful tyi-ants, mischief breeding. 
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, 
Affright and desolate the land. 
While Peace and Liberty lie bleeding? 

(Chorns) — To arms ! to arms, ye brave ! 
Th' avenging sword unsheath ! 
March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved 
On liberty or death ! 

G2 



78 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



Now, now the clangeroiis storm is rolling, 

Which treacherous kings confederate raise; 
The dogs of war, let loose, are howling, 

And lo ! our fields and cities blaze 
And shall we barely view the ruin. 

While lawless Force, with guilty stride 
Spreads desolation far and wide, 
With crime and blood his hands imbruing ? 

(Chorus) — To arras ! to arms, ye brave ! 
Th' avenging sword unshealh ! 
March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved 
On liberty or death ! 

3. 
With luxuiy and pride suiTounded, 
The vilo, insatiate despots dare — 
Their thirst of gold and jiower unbounded — 

To mete and vend tiie light and air. 

Like beasts of burden would they load us, 

Like tyrants bid their slaves adore ; 

But man is man, and who is more ? 

Nor shall they longer lash and goad us. 

(Chorus) — To anris ! to arms, ye bfave ! 
Th' avenging sword unsheath ! 
March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved 
On liberty or death ' 

4. 
O Liberty! can man resign thee, 

Once having felt thy gen'rous flame 1 
Can dungeons, bolts, and bars confine thee, 

Or whips thy noble spirit tame ? 
Too long the world has wept, bewailing 
AVhat Falsehood's dagger tyrants wield; 
But Freedom is our sword and shield, 
And all their arts are unavailing. 

(Chonis) — To arms! to arms, ye brave! 
Th' avenging sword unsheath ! 
March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved 
On liberty or death ! 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 79 



The reader may be interested iii here perusing the fol- 
lowing account, given by Lamartine, of the origm of this 
famous song. " The Marseillaise preserves notes of the 
song of glory and the shriek of death : glorious as the one, 
funereal like the other, it assures the country, while it makes 
the citizen turn pale. This is its history : 

"There was then a young officer of artillery in the garri- 
son at Strasburg, named Rouget de Lisle. He was born 
at Lons-le-Saunier, in the Jura, that country of revery 
and energy, as mountainous countries always are. This 
young man loved war like a soldier — the Revolution like a 
thinker. He charmed with his verses and music the slow, 
dull garrison life. Much in request from his twofold talent 
as musician and poet, he visited the house of Dietrick, an 
Alsatian patriot {maire of Strasburg), on intimate terms. 
Dietrick's wife and young daughters shared in his patri- 
otic feelings, for the Revolution was advancing toward the 
frontiers, just as the affections of the body always commence 
at the extremities. They were very partial to the young 
officer, and inspired his heart, his poetry, and his music. 
They executed the first of his ideas hardly developed, con- 
fidantes of the earliest flights of his genius. 

" It was in the winter of 1792, and there was a scarcity in 
Strasburg. The house of Dietrick was poor, and the table 
humble ; but there was always a welcome for Rouget de 
Lisle. This young officer was there from morning to night, 
like a son or brother of the family. One day, when there 
was only some coarse bread and slices of ham on the table, 
Dietrick, looking with calm sadness at De Lisle, said to 
him, ' Plenty is not seen at our feasts ; but what matter, 
if'enthusiasm is not wanting at our civic fetes, and courage 



80 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



in our soldier's hearts. I have still a bottle of wine left in 
my cellar.' ' Bring it,' he added, addressmg one of his 
daughters, ' and we will drink to Liberty and our country. 
Strasburg is shortly to have a patriotic ceremony, and De 
Lisle must be inspired by these last drops to produce one 
of those hymns which convey to the soul of the people the 
enthusiasm which suggested it.' The young girls applaud- 
ed, fetched the wine, filled the glasses of their old father and 
the young officer until the wine was exhausted. It was 
midnight, and very cold. De Lisle was a dreamer ; his 
heart was moved, his head heated. The cold seized on him, 
and he went staggering to his lonely chamber, endeavoring, 
by degrees, to find mspiration in the palpitations of his cit- 
izen heart ; and on his small clavichord, now composing the 
air before the words, and now the words before the air, com- 
bined them so intimately in his mind, that he could never 
tell which was first produced, the air or the words, so im- 
possible did he find it to separate the poetry from the music, 
and the feeling from the impression. He sung every thing — 
wrote nothing. 

" Overcome by this divine inspiration, his head fell sleep- 
ing on his instrument, and he did not awake until daylight. 
The song of the over-night returned to his memory with 
difficulty, like the recollections of a dream. He wrote it 
down, and then ran to Dietrick. He found him in his gar- 
den. His wife and daughters had not yet risen. Dietrick 
aroused them, called together some friends as fond as him- 
self of music, and capable of executmg De Lisle's composi- 
tion. Dietrick's eldest daughter accompanied them, Rouget 
sang. At the first verse all countenances turned pale, at 
the second tears flowed, at the last enthusiasm burst forth. 



LOUIS rniLirPE. si 



The hymn of the country was found. Alas ! it was also 
destined to be the hymn of terror. The unfortunate Dietrick 
went a few months afterward to the scaffold, to the sound 
of the notes produced at his own fireside, from the heart of 
his friend, and the voices of his daughters. 

" The new song, executed some days afterward at Stras- 
burg, flew from city to city, m every public orchestra. 
Marseilles adopted it to be sung at the opening and at the 
close of the sittings of its clubs. The Marseillais spread it 
all over France, by singing it every where on their way, 
whence the name of Marseillaise. De Lisle's old mother, 
a Royalist, and religious, alarmed at the effect of her son's 
voice, wrote to him : " What is this Revolutionary hymn, 
sung by bands of brigands who are traversing France, and 
with which our name is mingled ?' De Lisle himself, pro- 
scribed as a Royalist, heard it, and shuddered as it sounded 
on his ears, while escaping by some of the wild passes of 
the Alps. ' What do they call that hymn ?' he inquired of 
his guide. ' The Marseillaise,'' replied the peasant. It 
was thus he learned the name of his own work. The arm 
turned against the hand that forged it. The Revolution, 
insane, no longer recognized its own voice !" 

As this hymn has acquired a world-wide celebrity, we 
will insert it here in the original French. 

MARSEILLAISE HYMN. 

I. 

Allons, enfans de la pati-ie ; 

Le jour de gloire est amve ; 
Contre nous de la tyranuie 

L'ctendard sandant est leve. 



82 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



Eiiteudez-voiis dans les campagnes 
MiJgir ces feroces soklats ? 
lis viennent jusques dans vos bras 
Egorger vos fils, vos compagnes. 
Aux armes, citoyens! formez vos bataillons! 
Marchez ! qu'un sang impur abreuve vos sillons ! 
(ChoBui-) — Aux armes, citoyens ! formons nos bataillons ! 

Marchons! qii'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons ! 

II. 

Que veut cette horde d'esclaves, 

De traitres de rois conjures ? 
Pour qui ces ignoble entraves, 

Ces fers des long-tems prepares? 
Franijais, pour nous, ah ! quel outrage 
Quels transports il doit exciter ! 
G'est nous qu'on ose menacer 
De reudre d I'antique esclavage ; 
Aux armes, citoyens! formez vos bataillons! 
Marchez ! qu'mi sang impur abreuve vos sillons ! 
(Cha3ur) — Aux annes, citoyens ! fonnons nos bataillons ! 

Marchons! qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons! 

III. 

Quoi ! des cuhortes etrangeres 

Feraient la loi dans nos foyers ! 
Quoi ! ces phalanges mercenaires 

TeiTasseraient nos fiers guemers ! 
Grand Dieu ! par des mains encliainees 
Nos fronts sous le joug se plieraient! 
De vils despotes deviendraient 
Les maltres de nos destijices ! 
Aux annes, citoyens ! fonnez vos bataillons ! 
Marchez! qu'un sang impur abreuve vos siUons ! 
(Chn?ur) — Aux armes, citoyens! fonnons nos bataillons ! 

Marchons ! qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons ! 

IV. 
Tremblez, tyrans ! et vous, perfides ! 

L'opprobre de lous les partis ; 

t"remblez,....vo8 projets panicides 

Vont enfin recevoir leur prix. 



LOUIS I'HILirrE. 83 



Tout est soldat pour vous combattre ; 
S'ils tombent, nos jeunes heros, 
La France en produit de uouveaux, 
Centre vous tons prets El se batti-e. 
Aux ai'ines, citoyens ! fomiez vos bataillons ! 
Marchez ! qu'im sang impur abreuve vos sillons ! 
(Choeur) — Aux amies, citoyens ! fonnous nos bataillons ! 

Mai-clions ! qu'uu sang impiu" abreuve nos sillons! 

V. 

Franqais, en guemers magTianimes, 

Portez ou retenez vous coup ; 
Epargnez les tristes victimes 

A regret s'ai-mant centre vous ; 
Mais ces despotes sanguiuaires, 
Mais les comiilices de Bouille.... 
Tons ces tigres qui, sans pitie, 
Dechirent le sien de leur mere. 
Aux amies, citoyens ! formez vos bataillons ! 
Mai'chez ! qn'un sang irapur abreuve vos sillons ! 
(Choear) — Aux amies, citoyens ! formons nos bataillons ! 

Rlarchons ! qu'un sang iuipur abreuve nos sillons! 

VI. 
Amom- sacre de la patrie, 

Conduis, soutiens nos hvaa vengeurs; 
Liberte, Liberte cherie. 

Combats avec tes dcfeuseurs. 
Sous nos dz'apeaux, que la victoii'e 
Accoure a tes mdles acceiis ; 
Que tes ennemis expii-ans, 
Voient ta triomphe et notre glou-e. 
Aux annes, citoyens I formez vos bataillons ! 
Marchez ! qu'iiu sang impiu- abreuve vos sillons I 

(Clioeur) — Aux annes, citoyens ! formons nos bataillons ! 

Maixhons! qu'un sang impur abreuve vos sillons! 

But to return to our story : 

When the light of Wednesday dawned upon Paris, the 
prijicipal streets were seen filled with these effective blocli- 



84 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ades. Instead of the unarmed mobs which had fled before 
the dragoons the preceding day, there now appeared throngs 
of well-armed citizens, here and there marshalled in mili- 
tary array under active leaders, either veteran generals of 
the old revolutionary armies, or enthusiastic students from 
the military school. The sound of war against oppression 
had roused La Fayette from his retreat, and his locks were 
seen floating in the breeze as he headed and guided the 
struggling people. From the venerable towers of Notre 
Dame the tri-colored flag of the Revolution was seen float- 
ing in the breeze. Tlie tri-colored cockade, the pledge of 
resistance unto death, was upon every hat. The melan- 
choly peal of the alarm-bells and the martial drum collected 
the populace in innumerable rendezvous for war. Anxiety 
and stern defiance sat on every countenance. Paris was a 
camp — a battle-field. The kmg had in Paris and its im- 
mediate vicinity eighteen thousand troops, veterans in war. 
To meet these in deadly conflict was no child's play. As 
soon as the morning liglit was spread over the city, the 
sound of the trumpet and martial drum was heard, as the 
regiments of the king, in solid phalanx, marched from their 
head-quarters at the Tuilcries, with infantry, and artillery, 
and cavalry, to sweep the streets of tiie insurgent city. 
Then ensued scenes of murderous strife, such as have sel- 
dom been exceeded in any conflict. The demon of war 
rioted in every street of the city. Heavy cannon mowed 
down the opposing multitude with ball and grape-shot. 
Bomb-shells demolished the houses which atibrded a covert 
to the assailing people. WeU-mounted troops, armed to the 
teeth, drove their buUets into every eye that peeped from a 
window, and into every hand that appeared from a turret. 



LOUIS riiiLirrE. 85 



It is not easy to imagine the havoc that must be produced 
by the balls from heavy artillery bounding over the pave- 
ments of a crowded city, and tearing their destructive way 
through parlors and chambers, where affrighted mothers and 
babes were clustered together. One lady had retned in 
terror to her chamber and her bed, when a cannon-ball 
pierced the house, passed through the bed and through her 
body, and, scattering her mangled remains over the room, 
continued unimpeded on its way of destruction and carnage, 

A female, as she observed the awful slaughter which one 
of the king's cannon produced as it mowed do\Nai the crowds 
in the streets, rushed to the cannon, pressed her bosom to 
its mouth, and, clasping it with her arms, entreated the offi- 
cer in command to desist. The soldiers endeavored to pull 
her away. But with frantic strength she clung to the gun, 
declaring that, if they would continue then- slaughter, they 
should fire through her body. The officer commanded the 
torch to be applied. The gunner shrank from the horrible 
deed. " Fire I" shouted the officer, " or I will thrust my 
sword through your body." The torch was applied, and 
instantly the remains of this heroic woman were scattered 
in fragments through the air. It is painful to narrate such 
incidents, but we can not otherwise convey an adequate 
idea of the enthusiasm and terror of the scene. 

A party of eight gentlemen were sitting at a table par- 
takmg of refreshment. A cannon-ball pierced the dwelling, 
passed over the table, just sweeping it clean of all its con- 
tents, and buried itself in the side of the house, injuring no 
one. That ball is now gilded, and suspended m front of the 
dwehing, mth tliis inscription : " An Orange from Charles 
X,., the last token of his paternal love." 

11 



86 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



As the king's troops encountered the barricades with 
which the streets were every where impeded, the citizens, 
from the yards, and chambers, and roofs of the houses, and 
from every protectmg point, poured in upon them the most 
destructive fire. While these veteran soldiers, inured to 
all the horrors of war, fought their bloody way along the 
narrow streets in compact masses, they were crushed by 
logs of wood, and heavy articles of furniture, and paving 
stones thrown by a thousand unseen hands from the win- 
dows of the houses, and rained down from the roofs like 
hail upon their heads. For three days this terrific and san- 
guinary conflict continued unabated. The streets of Paris 
literally flowed with blood. The quick, rattling fire of regi- 
ments of mfantry, the thundering explosions of cannon and 
of mortars, the shouts of the combatants, and the cries of 
the dying, resounded by night and by day through the ill- 
fated metropolis. Boys amused themselves in shooting, 
from the windows, the commanders leading the king's 
troops. An officer of high rank and of majestic form, who 
had passed unscathed through the wars of Napoleon, was 
shot dead by a lad eight or ten years of age, who sprang 
from behind a corner and ran away laughing. The carnage 
on both sides was dreadful. New troops were incessantly 
poured mto the city by the king, to take the place of the 
wounded and the dead, more than one thousand of the royal 
guard having been killed the first of the three days. But 
through every avenue countless multitudes of enraged coun- 
trymen were contmually gathering to swell the masses 
of the king's enemies swarmmg in the streets. During 
the conflict about eight thousand persons were killed and 
wounded. 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 87 



The king soon became thoroughly alarmed. His defeated 
troops, driven in from all points to then- head-quarters at 
the garden of the TuUeries and the Palais Royal, from the 
assailants became the assailed. Charles, astonished and 
terrified at the resistlessness of the fury he had excited, re- 
called the execrable ordinance and dismissed the obnoxious 
ministers. But it was too late for compromise. The vic- 
torious people rushed like an mundation into the Louvre 
and the Tuileries, and the exhausted troops were swept be- 
fore them like rubbish on the flood. 

It is said that Charles, accompanied by his son, stood upon 
the towers of his palace at St. Cloud, about six miles from 
Paris, with his spy-glass in his hand, anxiously watching 
the national flag, the emblem of Bourbon power, as it float- 
ed from the battlements of the Tuileries. Suddenly he saw 
it fall, and the tri-colored flag rose and was unfurled trium- 
phantly in its stead. It told him that all was lost — that 
his honor and his crown had fallen forever. Both were in- 
stantly stupefied with amazement and despair. The next 
moment they saw the dust raised by the royal troops re- 
treating from the city. Charles and his faixiily fled in a 
state of indescribable terror to his hunting seat at Ram- 
bouillet, about thuty miles from Paris. 

And now the cry resounds through the streets of Paris, 
" To Rambouillet ! to Rambouillet !" Scarcely had Charles 
arrived at his hunting seat ere the alarm couriers, from 
their panting, foaming steeds, rushed into the presence of 
the royal family, to tell them, with pale lips, that all Paris 
was on the march to attack them. Men, women, and chil- 
dren, on horseback, in hacks and omnibuses, in carts and 
oil foot, a motley throng of uncounted thousands, were on 



88 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



the way to pay their fallen monarch a most unwelcome 
visit. Charles had not forgotten the awful scene in which 
his brother Louis was torn froiu his throne and his palace, 
and dragged, in a cart, to the most ignomuiious death. It 
was, indeed, a night of terror and of tears, when Charles 
and the royal family, in midnight gloom, precipitately en- 
tered their carriages, surrounded by a few faithful adhe- 
rents, and fled from their foes. As the infuriated shouts 
of the approaching multitude swelled upon the night air, 
mingled with the crackling fire of musketry and the dis- 
tant thunders of heavy artillery, the Bourbons commenced 
their melancholy journey from regal magnificence to igno- 
niny and exile. 

When the next morning sun rose above the hills of 
France, this funeral procession of departed power was seen 
windmg its mournful way through the distant provinces of 
the empire, to find, in foreign lands, a refuge and a grave. 
The alarm-bells of the nation tolled the kneU of departed 
royalty, while now and then came pealing through the 
air the deep and distant thunders of the insurrection gun. 
The tri-colored flag of successful revolution, floating from 
every castle and streaming from every turret, proclaim- 
ed that the Bourbons had gone down into a grave from 
whence there was no resurrection. Charles, and his son, and 
his grandson, three generations of kmgs, with the sobbmg 
females of the royal family, witnessed these sights and 
heard these sounds with emotions which no language can 
describe. They darkened the wmdows of their carriages, 
that they might conceal from the popular gaze their coun- 
tenances, wan and wasted with sleeplessness, and teryor, and 
despair. Apprehensive every hour of arrest and consign- 



LOUIS THILIPPE. 8d 



ment to the dungeon or the guillotine, they hardly ventured 
to alight for refreshment or repose in their funereal flight 
from the splendors and the honors of the Tuilleries, Ver- 
sailles, and St. Cloud, to the tomb of ignominy and of exile. 
A few hundred of the defeated body-guard of the king fol- 
lowed in the train of the royal carriages, silent and deject- 
ed, the pall-bearers of the Bourbon hearse. 

Deeply as we must condemn the conduct of this fallen 
monarch, who can refram from shedding a tear of sympathy 
over the ruined fortunes of himself and his race. We for- 
get his political crime m the magnitude of the ruin with 
which it overwhelmed him. Even the generous people 
whom he had so deeply injured, when they witnessed his 
utter and hopeless discomfiture, manifested no disposition, 
by arrest, or insult, or reproaches, to add to the bitterness 
of his anguish. They allowed him to depart unmolested. 
When this melancholy train of regal fugitives arrived at 
the ocean shore, they were received mto two American ships 
and conveyed to England, where they lingered for a few 
years in dejection and despair. The surviving fragments 
of the royal family were gradually dispersed over the Con- 
tinent in hopeless obscurity and exile. 

While these scenes were transpiring in Paris, the Duke 
of Orleans was at his residence at Neuilly. La Fayette, 
and the other leaders of the Revolution, immediately direct- 
ed their eyes to him as the most suitable candidate to take 
the place of the fallen monarch. He was a branch of the 
royal family, and that would conciliate the Royalist. He 
was tlie richest man in France, and knew how to use his 
riches, and that gave him great power, for, the v/orld over, 
weUlth is influence. His private property is estimated at 

H2 



90 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



one hundred millions of dollars. Whether this be an ac- 
curate estimate or not, it is universally admitted that his 
wealth is so enormous, that a few millions more or less are 
of no account. He was a known and long-tried advocate 
of liberal political opinions, and that would reconcile the 
Republicans. 

The ministers of Charles also foresaw that, for these very 
reasons, he was the individual from whom they had the 
most to fear. As the retreating troops of Charles passed 
the gate of the park of Louis Philippe, they discharged a 
few volle3'^s of artillery into his country seat, as the emphatic 
expression of their regard. On the same day, and almost 
at the same hour, two detachments arrived at his residence 
at Neuilly, one from the triumphant people of Paris, and 
the other a detachment of the royal guard, sent by the re- 
treating Charles to take him a prisoner. But Louis, long 
schooled m the wisdom of troubled times, was no where to 
be found. The royal guard soon consulted their own safety 
in precipitate flight. It was ten o'clock at night when 
Louis ventured from his retreat to meet the deputation from 
Paris. He received them at the gate of his park. By the 
pale and flickering torch-light, he read the commission in- 
viting him to the metropolis, to take the oflice of Lieuten- 
ant-general of France, which meant, in reality, to ascend 
the throne of the Bourbons. It is reported that. Louis was 
exceedingly reluctant to leave the peaceful scenes of domes- 
tic enjoyment, and again launch forth upon the turbulent 
ocean of political life, where he had already encountered so 
many storms. By such a change he hazarded every thing, 
and could gain nothing. He said that during all his days 
he had been the victim of the tempests of state, in persecu- 



LOUIS PHILirPE. 91 



tion, in poverty, in exile, and he thought that he ought to 
be permitted to pass the evening of his days in the retire- 
ment and peace of his tranquil home. He had seen enough 
of life's ambition, and suffered enough from political revers- 
es. His wife wept in the anguish of her spirit in view of 
the dangers and the sorrows of regal state. She was fa- 
miliar with the melancholy history of kings and courts, of 
popularity turned into hatred, of applause succeeded by exe- 
crations, monarchs and queens hurled from the throne, pelt- 
ed by the people, driven into exile, or bleedmg headless un- 
der the executioner's axe. 

She had heard the story of Maria Antoinette, driven from 
the very chambers of the palace into which her husband 
was now urged to enter, fleeing in her night-dress, even 
from the sanctity of her bed, before the infuriated rabble 
from the dens and the brothels of Paris. She had not for- 
gotten that from those regal mansions, into which the people 
would now mtroduce her, the idolized daughter of Austria, 
the once-adored Queen of France, had been plunged into a 
deep and damp dungeon, till her fairy form was withered, 
and her angelic countenance became ghastly and hideous 
through the intensity of her suffermgs. Amelia could not 
forget that the streets of Paris once resounded with the ac- 
clamations of Maria, as she entered them a youthful bride, 
charioted m splendor, and that but a few years elapsed 
before she was dragged through tlie same streets on the 
executioner's hurdle, blinded, deformed, revolting in aspect 
through her miseries, exposed to the jeers and the execra- 
tions of the mob, till the slide of the guillotine terminated 
her woes. 

She knew that the queenly diadem could be only one of 



92 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

thorns ; that, as one revolution placed them upon the throne, 
another might remove them to bleed upon the scaffold. 
Thus, wdien the people took Louis Philippe by violence, 
and would make him their king, Amelia, in her retired 
chambers, wept bitterly over the anticipated wreck of her 
domestic peace. 

But Louis was told that he must either ascend the throne 
or leave France. The only chance before him was the 
crown or exile. The leaders of the people saw that proba- 
bly he alone could stay the effusion of blood, conciliating 
in his regal lineage and democratic principles both Monar- 
chists and Republicans. 

The provisional government which sprang up m this 
emergency was headed by Lafitte, La Fayette, and Thiers. 
M. Thiers was one of the committee appointed to call upon 
the duke, and to urge his acceptance of the office of king. 
The danger of anarcliy, with which the nation was menaced, 
was represented to him in the strongest light, and he was 
assured that those dangers could only be averted by his 
prompt decision to place himself at the head of the new 
constitutional monarchy. M. Thiers urged upon the Duke 
of Orleans " that nothing was left to him but a choice of 
dangers, and that, in the existing state of things, to recoil 
from the possible perils of royalty was to run full upon a 
republic and its inevitable violences." 

At 12 o'clock the next day, Louis, clambering over the 
barricades of the streets of Paris, on foot, entered the Hotel 
de Ville. The excited millions of Paris and its environs 
thronged all its avenues. They, however, received him in 
silence. Louis was remotely a Bourbon. The blood of 
that family, so hateful to the people, was in his veins. 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 93 



They feared that, after all, they might be betrayed. The 
scale of popular enthusiasm was in that state of perfect 
equilibrium in which it was uncertain whether the next 
moment the air would resound with execrations or applauses. 

At this critical moment, when a breath was to decide 
the destinies of France, the venerable form of the people's 
idol. La Fayette, appeared upon the balcony of the Hotel 
de Ville, waving in one hand the tri-colored flag of the old 
republic, and with the other presenting Louis Philippe as 
the candidate for the new monarchy. The endorsement of 
La Fayette was at once accepted. Listantaneously every 
mind responded to the appeal. One loud, long, hearty, 
heaven-rending shout rose from the multitude, and Louis 
Philippe was the elected monarch of France. 

" You know," said La Fayette, at this time, to Louis 
Philippe, while holding his hand, standing upon the balcony, 
" that I am a Republican, and that I regard the Constitu- 
tion of the United States as the most perfect that has ever 
existed." 

" I think as you do," replied Louis Philippe. " It is im- 
possible to have passed two years in the United States, as 
I have done, and not be of that opinion ; but," he continued, 
" do you think that, in the present state of France, a Re- 
publican government can be adopted ?" 

" No," said La Fayette ; " that which is necessary for 
France now is a throne, surrounded by Republican institu- 
tions ; all must be Republican." 

" That is precisely my opinion," replied the newly-elected 
monarch. 

When we consider who were the speakers, and what was 
the occasion, we must regard this as the highest compli- 



94 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ment that could well be paid to the Constitution of the 
United States. 

On the 9th of August, 1830, Louis Philippe was en- 
throned King of the French. In the Palais Bourbon a 
magnificent throne was erected, overshadowed with tri- 
colored flags, and surmounted with a gorgeous canopy of 
crimson velvet. Before the throne there were three settees, 
for Louis Philippe and his two eldest sons. A table, covered 
with velvet, was placed before the settee upon which the 
elected king was to sit, and upon the table lay pen and 
paper, to be employed in signing the contract with the na- 
tion. Louis Philippe entered, ushered by the roar of artU- 
lery, the acclamations of the populace, and the Marseilles 
Hymn. The Chambers of Deputies and Peers were before 
him. The Duke of Orleans took his seat and put on his 
hat, and desned botli chambers to be seated. The declar- 
ation that the throne was vacant, and mviting his royal 
highness, the Duke of Orleans, to ascend the throne, was 
then read. Louis Philippe tlien gave his acceptance in 
these terms : 

" I have read with great attention the declaration of the 
Chamber of Deputies and the act of adhesion of the Cham- 
ber of Peers. I have weighed and meditated every expres- 
sion therein. I accept, without restriction or reservation, 
the clauses and engagements contained in that declaration, 
and the title of the King of the French which it confers on 
me, and I am ready to make oath to observe the same." 
He then rose, took off his glove, uncovered his head, and 
pronounced the following oath : "In the presence of God, 
I swear faithfully to observe the constitutional charter, with 
the modifications set forth in the declaration; to govern 



LOUIS rHILIPPE. 95 



only by the laws ; to cause good and exact justice to be 
administered to every one according to his right ; and to act 
in every thing with the sole view to the interest, the wel- 
fare, and the glory of the French people." He now left the 
settee, and ascended the throne as Louis Philippe I., King 
OF THE French. 

Louis Philippe has retained his throne for eighteen years, 
and friends and foes must admit that, considering the diffi- 
culties of his position, he has done it with the most consum- 
mate ability, decision, and address. He is doing what he 
can, by a strong government at home, and by friendly alli- 
ance with the other courts of Europe, to confirm and con- 
solidate his power. By co-operating with England in her 
all-engrossing desire to resist the encroachments of Russia, 
he has secured the friendship of the court and cabinet of 
St. James. He has married his eldest daughter, Louisa 
Maria, to Leopold, the widower of the lamented Charlotte 
of England, now the illustrious King of Belgium, and by 
this alliance he has placed one of the wisest and most effi- 
cient monarchs in Europe to guard with filial watchfulness 
his northern frontier. His eldest son married a princess of 
Germany. Another son he has married to a sister of Isa- 
bella, the Queen of Spam, The article upon Isabella will 
show how strong the probabilities are that this son may yet 
inherit tlie Spanish throne, 

Louis Philippe, in all the habits of his life, is remarkably 
regular and frugal. He has ever been an early riser, and 
is seldom to be found in his bed after six o'clock in sum- 
mer or eight o'clock in winter. For Paris, these are very 
early hours. His ordinary course of life is as follows : 
Soon after rising, he is presented with a small cup of cof- 



96 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



fee, and then spends an hour or two in reading the French 
and English journals, and in attending to any urgent bu- 
siness. At nine o'clock he enters his cabinet de toilette, 
where he amuses himself for a time with his grand-chil- 
dren, and then finishes his toilette, always shaving with 
his own hand. Though fond of an old coat for his working 
dress, his miajesty is scrupulously neat in his person and 
attire. At ten o'clock the king breakfasts. At eleven he 
usually visits the buildings of the Tuileries and the Palais 
Royal, where, almost invariably, alterations and repairs 
are in progress. The king is much interested in such mat- 
ters, is well acquainted with architecture, and converses 
familiarly with the workmen upon their operations. At 
one o'clock the king returns to the Tuilleries to preside over 
a council of his ministers. He takes his place at their 
head, says but little, yet listens attentively to all that is 
uttered. He occasionally asks a question or presents an ob- 
jection. Generally, during the whole time the cabinet 
council is in session, he mechanically employs himself in 
di'awing grotesque and fanciful figures upon the paper be- 
fore him. The table is often pretty well covered with these 
specimens of royal etchings. At the breaking up of the 
cabinet, these caricatures are eagerly seized by the minis- 
ters as souvenirs for their friends. Probably they would 
bring a higher price in the market than many elaborate 
pamtings. At the close of the deliberations the king sums 
up the arguments, and the final resolve is adopted. His 
majesty has traveled so extensively, is familiar with so 
many forms of government, and is acquainted with so 
many languages, that he has great advantage over all his 
ministers, and, like Napoleon, he rules them, and not they 
him. 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 



After the council the kmg again proceeds to the Tuiller- 
ies and the Louvre, visiting the studios of celebrated paint- 
ers, and conversing with distinguished artists. The royal 
family gather around the dinner-table, with invited guests, 
about five o'clock, though the king is seldom present until 
near the close of the meal, and eats very sparingly. Con- 
versation, reading journals, &c., ensues after coffee, until 
ten o'clock, when the king again enters his cabinet de tra- 
vail, assumes his old coat or a robe de chambre, and de- 
votes his mind to the cares of his majestic empire till late 
into the night. He has no bed of down for his weary limbs, 
but sleeps upon a hard camp-bed. He may be justly called 
a hard-working man. 

The long years he has spent in adversity and exile ; his 
intimate personal acquaintance with all the governments 
of Europe and America ; his famiUar knowledge of mankind 
in the various ranks of society, from the extreme of regal 
splendor to the lowliest stations of penury, render him one 
of the most efficient monarchs upon a European throne. 
The possession of power is always dangerous, almost al- 
ways corrupting. It is very evident that King Louis is 
becoming much less Republican in his tendencies than was 
Citizen Louis ; and he appears to be much more anxious 
to establish his family upon the thrones of Europe, than 
to diffuse the principles of liberty throughout his empire. 

And yet we must be slow in censuring the acts of a 
man's government who is morally compelled to ascend the 
throne, and must either retain his seat or lose his earthly 
all. If Louis Philippe abdicates the throne, France will 
probably be deluged in blood. If he is driven from it by 
the, advocates of legitimacy on the one hand, or republican- 

I 



yS KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ism on the other, the horrors of civil war may sweep over 
the empire, and Louis be driven before it either to enter 
the dungeons where the mmisters of Charles have perished, 
or to be dragged on the hurdles with Amelia to the guillo- 
tine, where Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette suffered for 
the crime of royalty, or to follow Charles X. and the exiled 
Bourbons into hopeless banishment. 

Thus situated, it is hardly possible that Louis should 
know any repose. His countenance, it is said, is deeply 
furrowed with the traces of anxiety and care. France is 
filled with diverse parties. There is no unity of opinion in 
the nation. Conspiracies thicken throughout his realms. 
Assassins dog his path. He is shot at in the streets, and 
the surges of popular clamor are dashing around his throne. 
It has long been necessary for him, when he goes out, to 
ride in a musket-proof carriage, surrounded with guards, 
and to di'ive with/the utmost speed. It is said that, when- 
ever he leaves the palace, the queen is in a paroxysm of ter- 
ror lest he should be brought home a corpse. He is shot 
yt so often that he has received the expressive soubriquet 
of the target king. ■ " 'P'»'v-4-c:' n.- /o. 

France is a volcano, ever living, breathing, heaving. 
The rumbling of its smothered internal fires never cease. 
Louis Philippe can not recline his head upon his pillow at 
night with the assurance that its lava-flood will not over- 
whelm him before morning. But, with his strong mind well 
disciplined in the school of adversity, and knowing that the 
repose of France and his earthly all depend upon the sta- 
bility of his precarious and tottering throne, he may prob- 
ably retain his position during the short remnant of his 
earthly career. 



LOUIS PHILIPFE. 99 



The eldest son of Louis Philippe, a yonng man of great 
promise, and very popular, who married a German prin- 
cess, was heir-apparent to the throne. But the young 
Duke of Orleans, a few years ago, was thrown from his 
carriage and instantly killed. He left a son, now a lad of 
some twelve or fourteen years of age, upon whose brow the 
crown will legally fall at the death of Louis. 

The claimant of the throne who heretofore has caused 
Louis Philippe so much apprehension, is Charles Louis Na- 
poleon Bonaparte. When Napoleon married the widow 
Josephine, she had a daughter, Hortense. This daughter 
Napoleon soon married to his brother Louis. Their son, 
Charles Louis, thus both nephew and grandchild of the 
great emperor, is now the heir of whatever rights Napoleon 
could transmit to his posterity. Charles Louis is now 
about forty years of age. He has many partisans among 
the people and in the army, and has long been ready to em- 
brace the first opportunity to head the veteran armies of 
revolutionary France, and march with bloody strides to the 
throne from which foreign foes expelled his ancestor. In 
the year 1836, Charles Louis made a very vigorous effort 
to rally the army around him at Strasburg, but by the 
vigilance of Louis Philippe he was baffled. A few years 
later he made another desperate and disastrous attempt to 
gain the throne. He was taken prisoner, tried, and con- 
demned to perpetual imprisonment. As he entered the 
fortress assigned as his home and his grave, it is reported 
that he looked at the gloomy battlements, and, smiling, said, 
the word perpetual has long since lost its meaning in the 
French language. The prince was correct, or, rather, he 
should have said, the word perpetual, in French, means, 



iOO KINGS AND QUEENS. 



until the next revolution. A few months ago he effected 
his escape in female's clothes, and is now probably antici- 
pating with impatience the political convulsions which will 
probably ensue upon the death of the king. 

But Louis Philippe is now far advanced in life. He has 
already passed his threescore years and ten. Soon he must 
die. Who will succeed him? Will France be a repub- 
lic, under an elected president, like the United States, ac- 
cording to the prevailing wishes of the populace ? Or will 
the exiled Bourbon family regain the throne, in the person 
of the son of the Duchess du Berri, the legitimate monarch, 
.supported as he will be by nearly all the nobility of France, 
and by most of the crowned lieads of Europe ? Or will 
Louis Napoleon, upon whom would fall, by hereditary de- 
scent, the crown of the great Bonaparte, unfurl with meteor 
glare the idol banner of his imperial grandsire, and thus 
rally the enthusiasm of that discontented army, which can 
never forget its leader at Marengo, Austerlitz, and Lodi ? 
Or will the young Duke of Orleans, the grandson of Louis 
Philippe, receive by inheritance the crown which his grand- 
father received by election, sustained by the powerful friends, 
domestic and foreign, of the present king ? Or will France, 
rent by the conflicts of these diverse parties, become the 
blood-deluged theater of civil war, till anarchy and the Reign 
of Terror again give place to the military energy of another 
Napoleon ? 

In view of all these probabilities, there is a cloud of ter- 
rible menace suspended over the future destiny of this na- 
tion. France is now enjoying, for a season, comparative 
repose ; but the death of Louis will probably be the signal 
for the pealing thunder to break, and the elemental tempest 
to rasre. 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 11)1 



Since writing the last sentence, Revolution has again 
sounded the tocsin throughout the streets of Paris. The 
mob has again penetrated the Tuilleries and the Palais 
Royal, and the rich furniture of those princely saloons has 
been thrown into the streets and consumed in bonfires, 
around which triumphant and intoxicated thousands have 
danced. The throne of the king has been borne by the 
populace through the streets, dashed to pieces, and carried 
away in fragments as the trophies of victory. Louis Phil- 
ippe, after a reign of eighteen years, has abdicated the 
throne, and is again in exile, and, in all probabiKty, will 
be compelled to find in England or the United States an 
asylum for his declining days. France is again a volcano 
in action. All Europe is trembling under the influence of 
its convulsive throes. 

It is too early to write the history of the new revolution, 
which has appeared very unexpected, for few anticipated 
any serious outbreak until after the death of Louis Phil- 
ippe. The facts in the case, so far as at present known, 
appear to be as follows : For some months the inhabitants 
of France had been in the habit of holding public dinners, 
at the close of which political speeches were made, assail- 
ing the ministry and advocating reform. These gatherings 
were called reform banquets. They were producing a very 
powerful and ever-increasing impression, and, apprehensive 
of the consequences, the government began to tremble. Ar- 
rangements had been made for a mammoth reform banquet, 
to be held on Tuesday, the 22d of February, at Paris, in 
the' Elysian Fields. The ministry forbade the meeting, 

19 



10:2 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



and assembled the troops to disperse the gathering by force, 
if necessary. It was soon perceived, in the midst of the ex- 
citement with which Paris was filled, that the soldiers sym- 
pathized with the people, and it was in vain to call upon 
them for aid. The kmg and his ministry, in an hour, as it 
were, found themselves utterly helpless. The ministry re- 
signed. Louis Philippe abdicated his throne in favor of the 
young Count de Paris, and, entering his carriage, drove out 
of the city, leaving the Tuilleries and the Palais Royal to 
be sacked by the mob. The Duchess of Orleans accom- 
panied her son, in whose favor Louis Philippe had abdi- 
cated, to the Chamber of Deputies. The Chamber refused 
to receive him, and called for a republic. The king fled 
in terror and disguise to the sea-shore. After wandering 
about for some days, he, with the queen, entered a little 
fishing-boat, to endeavor to cross the Channel. He was 
picked up by a British steamer and carried to England, 
clothed in a pea-jacket, borrowed of a sailor, and with a 
five franc piece in his pocket. Victoria has received him 
with the utmost hospitality. France is a republic. Every 
man in France over twenty-one years of age is a voter. 
During the month of April, nine hundred representatives 
thus chosen meet to frame laws for the new republic. No 
one can foresee the result. Every lover of liberty and of 
the elevation of mankind must hope that wise and moder- 
ate councils may prevail. But every throne in Europe is 
rocking, and it is greatly to be feared that sanguinary scenes 
may again ensue 

The following very able article from " The London 
Times" expresses the views of the governmental party in 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 103 



England, of the results of this new French revolution. 
" The Times" is the organ of the dominant party in En- 
gland, and these are the views which are cherished by most 
intelligent men who are so near the scene of action. 
Though political bias would unquestionably lead " The 
Times" to regard the movements with apprehension, no 
one can have watched the progress of events in Paris thus 
far, without fear that all that is here anticipated may be 
realized. 

" The state of France can be made very clear to the En- 
glish capacity. It is simply the most desperate case of 
runaway that can be imagined. Let the drag-chain of an 
overloaded stage-coach snap just as the ponderous vehicle 
has committed itself to a precipitous descent. There is a 
mile to be run before you come to the less dangerous level. 
It is a mile of sharp turnings, of banks, of parapets, of rug- 
gedness, of collisions. Soon all is whirlwind and dust. 
Your team is mad. You seem to fly through the air, you 
bound, you swmg, you are carried to this side and to that. 
Twenty desperate passes are before you. Is it possible 
you can be saved ? Will momentum carry you through ? 
WiU timely check intervene? What can reins avail? 
There is nothing for it but resignation. To attempt es- 
cape is certain death. There is no assistance the specta- 
tors can render that will not precipitate your ruin. We 
will not extinguish hope by describing the catastrophe. 
There you have France, just a month after a glorious rev- 
olution. People ask of us what we think of the prospect. 
We thmk this : that the nervous and humane had better 
close their eyes, and shut the book on this story. We have 
wished the best, and hoped agaitust hope. If genius, if 



104 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

courage, if a few heroic efforts of resistance to the suicidal 
madness of the people, if a certain degree of tact and dex- 
terity could prevent the consummation, there are men at 
the Hotel de Ville who might yet rescue France. There 
are fortunate accidents that no one can anticipate ; and the 
power of Heaven, who shall venture to deny ? But if wo 
are to judge by the common rule of human affairs, there is 
nothing now for France but ruin the most hideous, total, 
and universal. 

" To all the intents and purposes of this terrible crisis, 
France is a mere name. The French nation are but the 
shades on the banks of the Styx. The departments are 
colonies. In the geography of the Boulevards, Normandy 
is more distant than Algeria. The army is not a political 
existence ; it knows and cares for nothing but conquest. 
The proprietors, the electors, the bourgeoisie, are mere lists 
of names and modes of classification. There is only one 
real and political unity in France, and that is the populace 
of Paris. It is the true King of the French. In that 
mighty animal there is but one mind. The clubs are its 
organs. A frenzied eloquence stimulates its frame. Its 
conscience consists of three ideas — Liberty to do whatever 
is agreeable ; Equality in the spoils exacted from industry, 
economy, and skill ; and the Fraternity of all who will join 
in this work. The populace of Paris is the nation, the 
government, the magistracy, the courts of justice, the 
army, the navy, the bourse, the alpha and omega of France. 
It surrounds the Hotel de Ville, as it will surround the 
Chamber of the Constituent Assembly. It assembles at 
the midnight summons, and defiles next mornmg on the 
streets and quays. It paralyzes aU whom it confronts. 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 105 



There is no power in France that can stand its gaze. 
That it has its final goal is no more than it owes to the 
universal law of its mortal existence. The day will come 
when those two hvindred thousand men will be worn out 
with unspeakable destitution and misery, or will quail be- 
fore a master. That, however, seems a distant day, and is 
far beyond the horizon of our present anticipations. 

" The strength of the confederacy that has usurped the 
name of France is in its perfect organization, its moral and 
intellectual unity, and its position in the citadel. It is re- 
solved to make good use of its power. Come what will to 
the rest, it means to take care of itself. Dalgetty assured 
his friends, as he went forth on his embas.sy to Argyle 
when there seemed a chance of scarcity, that both his host 
and his escort should want before he or his horse Gusta- 
vus went without a meal. With some splendid, because, 
doubtless, very hard-fought exceptions, the hundred and 
one decrees of these twenty-eight days constitute a grand 
system for supporting all the population of Paris at the ex- 
pense of every body else in the nation. The two hundred 
thousand have decreed themselves to be an imperious ne- 
cessity, a fundamental law of the realm. Mark the links 
in this chain of inevitable causation. Every man, and in- 
deed every lad, who presents himself at the Marie, receives 
30 sous a day ; quite an income compared with the wages 
many of them have been accustomed to earn. Public 
works and ateliers give even better, and, in many cases, 
additional pay to those who prefer a little easy employ- 
ment. The day's work is shortened. Wages are univer- 
sally raised at the demand of the people, and at the ex- 
pense of the miserable, much-abused bourgeoisie. Foreign 

E 2 



106 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

laborers and artisans are banished, English, Germans, and 
even provincials are hunted out of Paris. The Provision- 
al Government legalizes popular jealousy and outrage by 
ordering the forcible eviction of troublesome or burdensome 
strangers. The tradesmen, compelled to pay ruinous wa- 
ges, demand their own indulgences. The payment of bills 
and of other debts is postponed to the Greek calends. 

" To feed this hungry and many-headed monster, every 
thing else is sacrificed. Bankers, house landlords, fund- 
holders, depositors of savings, the owners of bank notes, 
employers, creditors, cab proprietors, intermediaries of every 
kind, are denounced and plundered. Capital, as a whole, 
is pronounced to be a conspiracy against labor, and mulcted 
for its crimes. Industry is proscribed under the title of a 
cowardly and base competition. Wherever money is, or is 
suspected to be, it is demanded. The taxes of the current 
quarter being paid in anticipation, it is intimated, with un- 
mistakable import, that another quarter in advance would 
not be taken amiss. Bankers, merchants, and traders, in 
the very jaws of bankruptcy, are compelled to contribute 
to a national discount bank, that is, to popular loans, to be 
granted, doubtless, on the only popular principle of non-re- 
payment. While capital is thus marked out for confisca- 
tion, while trade is annihilated and credit departed, a sum 
of eight millions of our money is raised by making all direct 
taxes half as much again as their present sufficiently bur- 
densome amount. The unfortunate bourgeoisie are not 
even suftered to escape. The clubs watch them as a cat 
watches the mouse that has once felt its claws. It is loudly 
demanded that they shall not be allowed to quit Paris, lest 
they carry off the remnant of their resources, and form a 



LOUIS PHILIPPE. 107 



hostile emigration. After having been put in the front of 
the fight on the 24th of February, they now discover that 
they were the chief enemy on that day. The aristocracy 
was vanquished in the first revolution, legitimacy in the 
second, and the bourgeoisie in the third. The Provisional 
Government, at its formal appearance before the delegates 
of trade at the Luxembourg the other day, announced that, 
having been elected on the 24th ultimo, it had been re- 
elected on the 17th instant, when the people, by a blood- 
less demonstration, drove all the respectables of the Nation- 
al Guard out of the streets. The Provisional Government, 
therefore, is little else than the blind organ of a universal 
operative combination against its employers. 

" We have great faith in the power of Paris, aided by a 
few great cities, to live by forced contributions from the 
provinces. As for the Constituent Assembly, we dismiss 
that cobweb entirely from the question. Nine hundred 
men are too many for an embassage, too few for an army. 
Their only claim, to consideration will be as hostages for 
the good behavior of the departments. They will help out 
the figment of a national representation. Otherwise the 
chamber of the assembly will be a prison guarded by two 
hundred thousand men. Should violence or terror be 
thought inconvenient and odious weapons, softer means will 
be at hand. In one year the Provisional Government, that 
is, the people of Paris, will have more offices to fill up than 
Louis Philippe had in five. The only effective antagonism 
in the Chamber will be that which arises from a competi- 
tion for the good graces of Paris. We only plead the in- 
firmity of human nature when we confess that we do not 
see our way through all this. Heaven may, indeed, send 



108 KINGS xVND QUEENS. 



a special deliverance, but we know not whence it can arise. 
There are heroes in the government ; men who can appease 
a raging multitude, and abash a still more furious colleague. 
But they have done their best, and what is the result? 
The most enormous and intolerable of tyrannies — that of a 
populace." ^ 

'■-••^^ C^tBrV P■■^'*'^^ ^^.V /^^U, 



^ 

K 



FERDINAIND II. 



^ i% 



Ferdinand II. 



A 



STRANGER in Vienna, a few years ago, might have 
had his attention arrested by seeing all eyes directed to- 
ward a plain, old-fashioned green caleche, drawn through 
the streets by a pair of very unostentatious horses. He 
would be much perplexed to understand the cause of the 
commotion among the crowd. In the caleche he would see 
a mild, inoffensive-looking gentleman, dressed in a brown, 
shabby overcoat, and with a hat looking much the worse 
for wear. The old gentleman nods with friendly careless- 
ness to individuals or groups on the right hand and the left, 
and the conviction is impressed upon the mind that it 
must be some retired merchant, who has long accustomed 
himself to habits of rigid economy, but who, from some un- 
known cause, attracts particular attention in the city. By 
his side sits a spruce-looking young man, with well-trim- 
med whiskers and mustache, who can apparently dispose 
of any fortune his father may leave for his use. That old 
gentleman is Francis II., emperor of Austria. The young 
man by his side is Ferdinand, his eldest son, the crown- 
prince. Notwithstanding, however, these amusing eccen- 
tricities, these bland smiles, and this easy exterior, Francis 
is none the less a monarch — a despot. His will is law. He 
has no Constitution to trammel him ; no Parliament to 
grant or withhold supplies. He speaks, and it is done. 
His people are his slaves — his willing slaves ; and they love 

K 2 113 



114 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

their master. He says that they are his children, and that 
they revere and obey their father. 

Francis was a humane, kind-hearted man, without com- 
manding intellectual powers, but very self-willed. Napo- 
leon said, very irreverently, of his father-in-law, " Francis 
is an old granny." Some amiable friend repeated the re- 
mark to Maria Louisa. " Monsieur Talleyrand," inquires 
the empress, " what does that mean — an old granny ?" " It 
means, madam," seriously replies the polite diplomatist, 
" it means a venerable sage.''^ Francis was, in the ordi- 
nary sense of the words, a benevolent and just man. Prin- 
ciples of integrity in reference to individual rights prevailed 
in his government. His simplicity, his amiability, his af- 
fectionate interest in the concerns even of the humblest of 
his people, won the love of his subjects, and they regarded 
him with almost filial veneration. In character, he was 
very much like Maria Louisa, being good-natured without 
any of those nobler traits which command the homage of 
the world. Many well-authenticated anecdotes are told, 
illustrative of the virtues which were clustered around the 
royal family. 

Francis was one day walking through the streets of 
Schoenbrun, attended by a single aid. The cholera was 
raguig at the time. A coffin, of some poor and friendless 
man, was borne through the streets, unattended by a sin- 
gle mourner. "Why is this coffin thus abandoned?" in- 
quired the emperor. " It is, doubtless," the aid replied, 
"the corpse of some poor person who has no relations." 
" Well, then," said the emperor, " if you please, we will fol- 
low it ourselves as mourners." Taking the arm of his aid, 
and reverently uncovering his head, he followed the re- 



FERDINAND II. 115 



mains of the unknown pauper through the streets to the 
grave. There he cast the first spadeful of earth upon the 
remains, and retired. Admitting the uncharitable con- 
struction that this was done merely for efiect, it was un- 
deniably, in an absolute monarch, a graceful act. It was 
a touching recognition of the true equality of man, and of 
the parental relation existing between the emperor and his 
subjects. 

Such traits of character have greatly endeared the roy- 
al family to the Austrians. At one time the dangerous 
illness of Francis threw the whole empire into dismay, 
"When convalescent, the emperor rode out for the first time 
in a close carriage. He was immediately surrounded by 
thousands of the populace, shouting their congratulations. 
He let down the glass of the coach to thank them. " No ! 
no !" was the universal cry ; "he will take cold ! he will take 
cold I" and those who were nearest the carriage instantly 
laid violent hands upon the window, and forced it up. 

Francis was reproached with being too familiar with his 
subjects, and for associating with those of less elevated 
rank than himself. " If I am to live only with my equals," 
said he, "I must descend into the tomb of my ancestors, 
and dwell there forever." 

Francis wished to see liis people well fed and well clothed. 
In his judgment, kings were made to reign, subjects to obey. 
The king is the spiritual soul of the empire ; the subjects, 
the fleshy muscles which obey the will. The people must 
ask no questions. They have no right to think. As a good 
father would exclude infidel and demoralizing books from 
his family, so should the king, as the father of his people, 
exclude every thing from the popular mind which may stim- 



]li; KINGS ANTi QUEENS. 



nlate thought. Thinking leads to discontent. Such is the 
beautiful simplicily of the theory of government, as it ex- 
ists m the minds of the kings of Austria. They think that 
there should be but two classes in society, masters and 
slaves. Masters should command, slaves obey. Masters 
should read and think ; slaves, eat, work, and sleep. News- 
papers are for the masters, ploughs and hoe-handles for the 
slaves. For ages, such has been the state of society in Aus- 
tria. All are accustomed to it. The people dream of noth- 
ing different. They love their master, and delight to burnish 
their chains. As they know not the value of freedom, they 
have no desire to be free. It is the noble and the enlight- 
ened mind alone which feels the restraints of servitude, and 
struggles in irrepressible agony to escape from bondage. 
Ages of oppression paralyze all these energies which en- 
noble man, and degrade him to a brutal standard. Blot 
out the mind, and man is willing to rank with the fawning 
dog, which licks the hand that smites him, and with the 
senseless flock, which lovingly follows its master to the 
shambles. When it is said that slaves desire not their 
freedom, one does but give utterance to the very deepest 
curse which despotism can brand upon its victims. This 
assertion, ever presented by the oppressor as the palliative 
of his crime, only indicates the depth into whicli the iron 
of despotism has penetrated the soul. 

The first glimpse we catch in history of the Archduke 
Ferdinand is a view of him flying in dismay over the 
mountains of Bohemia, to escape from Napoleon. His 
whole army of forty thousand men have been seized by one 
fell swoop of the emperor's eagles. The archduke, in the 
utmost consternation, abandoning every thing, has taken to 



FERDINAND II. 117 



flight. With a few hundred followers, on fleet horses, he 
is rushing like the wind, over hill and dale, through forest 
and marsh, to escape from his terrible foe. The cavalry of 
Murat, in hot pursuit, are clattering at his heels. The royal 
fugitives hardly dared stop to breathe till he had escaped 
beyond the frontiers of Bohemia. This is not a very dig- 
nified introduction of the noble duke. There are, however, 
but few of the kings of Europe who have not, in their turn, 
presented a similar tableau vivant. 

The next view the muse of history affords us of Ferdi- 
nand is equally impressive. Napoleon, heading his legions, 
flushed with victory, is thundering dowai the valley of the 
Danube, driving before him the two hundred and seventy 
thousand Austrian troops, and marking his path with blood 
and flame. Horrid war, in all its horrid annals, can ex- 
hibit no scene more awfully sublime. Humanity sickens 
at the recital of the conflict, where proud self-confidence on 
the one hand, and desperation on the other, inspired the 
battle. 

The royal family in Vienna are in the utmost consterna- 
tion. The flashing of the French sabers can be seen upon 
the distant hills which surround the capital. The thunders 
of their approaching artillery fall booming upon the ear. 
The Austrian squadrons, mangled, bleeding, and enveloped 
in dust, come rushing into the city to seek refuge behind 
its ramparts. The royal family is in peril. There is not 
an hour for delay. The sick princess is abandoned in her 
chamber to the mercy of the conqueror. The emperor, 
with the queen, and the younger members of the imperial 
household, enters his carriage, and hurries for refuge, with 
the utmost speed, into the wilds of Hungary. Ferdinand, 



118 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

with his brothers of maturer age, are scattered in every di- 
rection to escape the impending peril. Napoleon rains down 
for a few hours upon the metropolis his terrific bomb-shells, 
then marches triumphantly into the conquered city, and 
liolds his court in the palaces of the Austrian kings. 

This was the second time Napoleon had prostrated the 
Austrian monarchy in supplication before him. Influenced 
by the relentless principles of war, he determined not to 
restore the capital to Francis until he had destroyed those 
fortifications from behmd which Maria Theresa had repelled 
the tide of Turkish invasion, and which, for ages, had con- 
stituted the ornament and the strength of Vienna. These 
ramparts were the glory of the city. Shaded by majestic 
trees, the growth of centuries, they formed delightful public 
])romenades, the favorite resort of the young and the old 
on every bright evening and every gala day. Napoleon, 
before leaving the city, ordered their entire demolition. 

Immense mines were constructed under these ramparts, 
and filled with barrels of gunpowder. The successive ex- 
plosion of one after another, darkening the heavens with 
clouds of smoke, and fragments of earth, and rock, and trees, 
formed one of the most sublime and awful spectacles which 
human eyes ever witnessed. The bastions majestically rose 
from their foundations, swelled, and, bursting with volcanic 
fury, filled the air with flame and smoke, and scattered 
showers of stones and fragments of masonry on every side. 
The subterranean fires ran along the mines with a smoth- 
ered roar, which appalled every heart. The inhabitants of 
Vienna gazed upon the work of destruction with terror and 
despair. One after another, all these magnificent works of 
art, rendered venerable by the lapse of centuries, were up- 



FERDLNA.ND II. U9 



heaved from their foundations and demolished. The beau- 
tiful city was on all sides surrounded by a scene of fright- 
ful desolation and ruin. No one can imagine the conster- 
nation of the citizens, young and old, of this pleasure-loving 
metropolis, as they witnessed the destruction of the pride 
and the strength of the empire. 

Such were the scenes in the midst of which Ferdinand 
was cradled, and through which he moved dm-ing all the 
periods of his early youth. Europe was but one vast arena 
for the rush and the shock of struggling armies. Austria 
was ever in the midst of the scene of conflict. The cry and 
the uproar of battle were incessantly resounding around 
the Austrian throne ; and the crown-prince, Ferdinand, 
ever called to a prominent post in his father's armies, was 
early inured to the mortification of defeat, and to the agony 
of seeing his discomfited troops cut to pieces, and trampled 
under the squadi'ons of the resistless warrior. He had seen 
the majestic empire of his father dismembered by Napoleon. 
Again and again he himself had been compelled to fly, van- 
quished, before the conqueror ; and he must, consequently, 
have often experienced emotions of wounded pride and of 
wretchedness which no pen can describe. 

Ferdinand, now emperor, is about fifty-five years of age. 
He was born in 1793, and ascended the throne in the year 
1830. Of his character but little is known. So far as 
can be ascertained, he is what is called a good sort of a 
man, without any distinguishing qualities of intellect or of 
energy. Indeed, but very little is generally known of the 
empire of Austria itself Though it constitutes one of the 
most powerful and influential nations of Europe ; though it 
is surrounded with historical associations of the richest and 



irir^a-t'- 1- / 



120 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

most exciting interest ; though in its aggregated reahns it 
exhibits mankind in all its phases, from almost the lowest 
barbarism to the highest elevation of courtly grandeur ; 
though it is, and long has been, the stronghold of despotism, 
the most powerful barrier against the rights of man on the 
continent of Europe, yet but very little is known respect- 
ing Austria, even by the most intelligent men, on either 
side of the Atlantic. Human nature, over those vast 
plains, is in a lethargic sleep ; and few travelers are in- 
duced to penetrate realms where stagnant mind seems to 
have impressed even upon the face of Nature its somber 
image of dreariness and vacuity. The palace is the abode 
of unintellectual splendor ; the hut is the dwelling of those 
who toil for a mere animal existence, and who are but lit- 
tle elevated above the beasts of burden they drive. 

That vast empire sleeps in solitary grandeur in the cen- 
ter of Europe, the China of the Christian world. It is the 
settled policy of the government to seclude the nation, as 
far as possible, from all community of interest, and from 
all freedom of intercourse with neighboring states. Fer- 
dinand is in constant dread that iiis territories may be in- 
vaded by those liberal opinions which are circulatmg so 
freely in other portions of Europe. The government, whose 
despotic principles are embodied in that most crafty of 
statesmen, Metternich, is laboring systematically to roll 
back the tide of civilization. Austria is at the head of that 
misnamed Holy Alliance which constitutes the most for- 
midable conspiracy ever entered into against the liberties 
of mankind. This powerful monarchy, with a territory su- 
perior, and a population equal to that of France, is compos- 



FERDINAND II. 121 



ed of four distinct nations, each speaking different langua- 
ges, and governed by widely-varying customs and laws. 

There is Hungary, a world by itself, gloomy in its un- 
tamed, uncivilized wildness, where the rocky castles of 
proud barons still frown upon the cliffs, as stable, as im- 
pregnable, as somber in their semi-barbarian strength as 
in the darkest morning of the Dark Ages. And courtly men 
and high-born dames tread haughtily those feudal halls. 
The menial serfs, retaining the dress, the manners, and the 
mind of generations long since buried m oblivion, hover for 
protection, in their miserable hovels, around their lord, 
proud of his grandeur and of their servitude, desirmg no 
change, and never dreaming that they were born for a no- 
bler destmy. The flood of six centuries has swept by Hun- 
gary, leaving it unchanged. It reposes in silence, and mo- 
notony, and darkness, unillumined by those floods of light 
which irradiate other portions of Europe. It is the twelfth 
century dwelling m the nineteenth. It is a picture of the 
Middle Ages framed in central Europe. The romance, 
however, of baronial castles and feudal lords, exists in the 
description of the novelist only, and not in the reality. A 
more unromantic, monotonous, dismal life can scarcely be 
found than among the boors of Hungary, and in those 
stately, yet gloomy abodes of stone and iron, where ances- 
tral pride dwells in unsocial solitude. 

There is Bohemia, with its obsequious peasantry, its 
haughty nobility. It possesses its mockery of a Legislature, 
unendowed even with the shadow of power. Its members, 
the dishonored tools of absolutism, can only deliberate upon 
the means of executing the king's commands, with no lib- 

L 



122 KINGS AND QUEENS. . 

erty to suggest any thing, or even to petition for favor of 
redress. 

There is Tyrol, the land of romance and of song, with 
her beetling cliffs, her gushing fountains, her roaring tor- 
rents, and her delicious mountain rills. Here is the abode 
of primitive simplicity. The traveler, passing through these 
Alpine ravmes, often sees, through the latticed windows of 
the peasant, the gathered family, kneeling around the fu*e- 
side in their evening prayers, or hears in the distance their 
vesper hymns, stealing through the silence and solitude of 
the forest. There is no scenery in Europe in which the 
beautiful and the sublime are more impressively blended. 
Mountam streams, and forests of matchless beauty, and 
peaks silvered with snow, shooting up, in a thousand fan- 
tastic forms, six or seven thousand feet mto the clouds, form 
a combination of sublime and romantic scenery which lures 
the lovers of the picturesque from all parts of the world. 
The remains of the immense castles of the old barons con- 
stitute one of the most striking features in the scenery of 
these realms of romance. 

The most romantic valleys, green, and luxuriant, and 
blooming with beauty, wind through these wild regions, 
while precipices bare with the eternal granite, and wood- 
ed heights gloomy with the somber spruce and fir, by the 
contrast add immeasurably to the fascinations of the scene. 
Perched on crags apparently inaccessible, and overhanging 
floods which come rushing from unknown heights in the 
mountains, are to be seen the immense castles of the de- 
parted lords of the soil. He must have, indeed, a dull im- 
agination who does not feel the imposing effect of these ven- 
erable and moldering ruins, rearing their time-worn bat- 



FERDINAND II 123 



tlements above the forest, and throwing an air of intellect- 
ual interest over the wildest domain of nature's scenery. 
These crumbling memorials of past ages of blood, of crime, 
of pride, of power, allied with all that is grand and gloomy 
in dark ravines, and dismal forests, and storm-shattered 
crags, render the scenery of the Tyrol as enchanting to the 
imagination, as emotion-exciting, as any which can be found 
on the continent of Europe. All these dilapidated relics of 
old baronial power have connected with them the wildest 
legends of love and crime. From them marched out the 
steel-clad warriors for the Holy Land, to expiate the agony 
of a tortured conscience by bleeding and dying before the 
walls of the Holy City. The weapons and the armor of 
these iron-nerved heroes are still preserved ; and the trav- 
eler, startled by the sound of his own footfalls, in these de- 
serted chambers swept by the storms of many centuries, 
feels himself transported, as it were, by magic, into the age 
of Godfrey of Bouillon or Richard of England, and there 
rise before his mind all the pride and pomp of chivalry. It 
is not surprising that those who inhabit these wild dells 
should be the children of imagination and of romance. The 
present is crowded with apparitions of the past. Ghosts 
hover over the pinnacles, and linger upon the moldering 
towers. Now a fair maiden is seen flitting through these 
solitary halls in white drapery, weeping over faithless vows 
uttered in her ear centuries ago ; and now avenging demons 
drive, on the wings of the gale and the drenching storm, 
her perjured lover, extorting from him remorseful shrieks, 
which almost freeze the blood in the veins of the trembling 
peasants as they cluster around the fireside. The super- 
stition of the people has animated all these moldering ruins 



124 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



with the phantoms of the dead. At midnight, lights gleam 
from towers where silence and solitude have reigned for 
ages. Groans are heard from dungeons where, in periods 
of time long ago passed away, the victims of feudal tyranny 
lingered and died. Bloody figures are seen rushing from 
room to room in the faint moonlight, the pursuing and the 
pursued; and now shouts of revelry burst from the ban- 
queting-hall, and again wailings of woe are borne upon the 
blast to the ear of tlie benighted traveler. In the darken- 
ing gloom of a stormy night, the cruel baron, who formerly 
persecuted his people, is seen flying in dismay, with screams 
and howls from the bloodhounds he had trained to hunt his 
victims. The sons and daughters of superstition have in 
the Tyrol a congenial home. 

There is Austria proper, the nucleus of this vast king- 
dom, the kernel of the nut. It is divided by the Danube, 
Europe's great artery. It is embellished by the voluptuous 
capital Vienna, where worldly pleasure, in unrestrained in- 
dulgence, ever holds its high carnival ; where noble ladies, 
frivolous and unlettered, are merely those "pretty noth- 
ings" which help to adorn a ball-room, scarcely conscious 
that they have either reason or souls ; where high-born 
men, exulting in their illustrious ancestry, have no nobler 
object in life than flirtation, waltzing, and the gaming-ta- 
ble ; and where the peasantry, impoverished and imbecile, 
hug the chains which bind them, and never desire, or dream 
even of, a more enviable lot. 

The German, the Italian, the Hungarian, the Bohemi- 
an, the Illyrian, and the Wallachian, are among the con- 
glomerated provinces and empires of this heterogeneous 
■ realm. And they are reposing together in one vast sleepy 



FERDINAND II. 125 



hollow, in entire unconsciousness of the progress of the 
nmeteenth century. Such is the realm over which Ferdi- 
nand reigns with absolute sway. And when he unfurls 
j his banners to gather his armies for war, the music of the 
Austrian bands summons the submissive peasantry of all 
these provinces to fight with any foe and for any cause. 

The stream of thoughtless and unrestrained pleasure 
flows in an uninterrupted current through the Austrian cap- 
ital. Amusement is the object of universal pursuit. The 
theaters, dancing-saloons, and gaming-tables are temples 
ever thronged with ardent votaries. No man is permitted 
to take up his residence in Vienna till he can prove that 
he is able to live there. In the busy throng which crowd 
the pavements of this voluptuous metropolis, or roll in their 
chariots under the groves of the Prater, the most beautiful 
park in Europe, may be seen the haughty Hungarian, with 
his gallant bearing, his gorgeous attire, his magnificent 
retinue, and his baronial pride ; the mindless, smiling Aus- 
trian, without either a thought for the future or a reminis- 
cence of the past ; the Bohemian noble, with his strongly- 
marked countenance, and frame erect with imagined su- 
periority ; the wily Illyrian ; the Italian, polished and 
courtly, smiling blandly upon the monarch whom he in 
heart relentlessly hates as the conqueror of his country, 
and in whose breast he would gladly bury his poniard ; and 
the Pole, with a shade of melancholy and self-humiliation 
mingling with his noble features, as he abandons himself 
to the current of the pleasure-seeking crowd. Vienna is 
the most dissolute capital of Europe. Sensual pleasure is 
apparently its object, and its only god. The consequence 
of this excessive dissipation is, that while in London but 

L2 



12G KINGS AND QUEENS. 



one in forty-five die annually, in Vienna the deaths are one 
for every fifteen. 

The great object of the Austrian government, that to 
which its energies are constantly directed, is to crush the 
spii'it of liberty, to paralyze the activity of the mind, to pre- 
vent, if possible, the thought from occurring that the peo- 
ple have any thing to do but to submit to their rulers. 
During the Congress of Laybach, the Emperor of Austria 
said to the teachers of a public seminary, " I want no 
learned men in my dominions. I want only men who will 
do what I bid them." These wishes of the emperor are 
abundantly gratified. The Austrians do not trouble them- 
selves with thinking. There is hardly a single name of 
celebrity in the intellectual world which Austria can claim 
as her own. 

Much has been said recently respecting the elementary 
schools established in Austria. These schools are estab- 
lished in but a limited portion of the empire, while the mill- 
ions who people the vast realms of Hungary, Transylva- 
nia, Croatia, Buconia, &c., are sunk in the deepest igno- 
rance. And these schools, where established, are intended 
as the most potent instruments of despotism. The pupils 
are not taught to think, but to be servilely submissive to 
despotic authority. The system of Austrian education, 
both secular and religious, can hardly find a parallel in the 
history of mankind. The one simple doctrine taught is, 
" Servants, obey your masters." The government monop- 
olizes the whole business of education ; and no one is per- 
mitted to teach who has not, by a careful examination be- 
fore government officers, proved that his efforts will all be 
directed to sustain the Austrian despotism. Every book is 



FERDINAND 11. 127 



examined by a public functionary, and almost every word 
which is uttered by a teacher is a subject of inquiry for the 
council of state. 

It was becoming, a short time ago, quite fashionable for 
the nobles, and other persons of wealth, to send their sons 
to foreign seminaries for education. These young men re- 
turned from the universities of London and Paris with en- 
larged minds, and with new views of civil liberty. The 
emperor, considering these views of freedom and of human 
rights as of perilous import to his throne, issued a decree 
prohibiting the youth of Austria from leaving the empire 
to pursue their studies. They are now compelled to re- 
main at home, and receive that education, and only that, 
which the emperor is willing to have conferred. 

This prohibition induced opulent parents, anxious for the 
intellectual culture of their sons, to employ foreign tutors, 
of distinguished attainments, to reside in their families. 
The emperor caught the alarm. These strangers from 
more liberal governments might inculcate sentiments sub- 
versive of the stability of Austrian despotism. Hastily an- 
other decree was issued, forbidding the employment of for- 
eign teachers in any family. 

The Bible is a book which all tyrants fear and all profli- 
gates hate. It is the charter of civil and religious liberty, 
A decree was issued by the emperor in 1822, prohibiting 
the distribution of the Bible in the Austrian dominions. 
Political despotism and the free circulation of the Bible 
can not exist together. 

The censorship of the press is another effectual barrier 
to the ingress of knowledge. It surrounds the empire with 
a gloomy wall, which can neither be undermined nor over-r 



128 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



leaped. There is not a printer in the Austrian realms who 
would dare to issue the sheet we now write. There is not 
a bookseller in the dominions of Ferdinand who would dare 
to expose this book upon his shelves. There is not a sub- 
ject in the realm who would be permitted, returning from 
foreign travel, to take this book with him across the fron- 
tier. Twelve public censors are established at Vienna, to 
some of whom every book published within the empire, 
whether original or reprinted, must be referred. And if 
there be any allusion even to reform either in the religion 
or the politics of the country, the book is summarily con- 
demned. The same rigid censorship extends to all foreign 
journals. No man can take any periodical published in 
other lands, without permission of the censors ; and no 
magazme or newspaper which does not advocate despotic 
prmciples can be taken at all. The Austrian Observer, 
which is published in Vienna, is the organ of the govern- 
ment. It contams only those items of foreign intelligence 
which the emperor is willing that his subjects should know. 
Its voice is obsequiously echoed by the few journals which, 
also under vigilant censorship, are established in the prov- 
inces. All correct knowledge of the institutions of the 
United States is studiously excluded. The only informa- 
tion an Austrian can gain of America is from exaggerated 
statements of the occasional acts of lawless violence which 
have disgraced our land, and from engravings, ostenta- 
tiously exhibited at the shop-wmdows, representing a Re- 
publican slaveholder flogging a slave ! This, says Fer- 
dinand, is Republicanism ! And the American gentleman, 
as he looks upon the picture, is silent, and hangs his head 
with shame. 



FERDINAND II. I'2.V 



A few years ago, the Poles inhabiting that portion of Po- 
land which, in the banditti division of the empire, was an- 
nexed to Russia, made a most heroic attempt to escape 
from the thraldom of the czar, and to recover their inde- 
pendence. Nicholas, with his countless legions, overran 
the province, and smothered the bold attempt in flames and 
blood. Some of the Austrians, in the vicinity of these 
scenes of woe, allowed then sympathy to get the better of 
their prudence, and sent to their suffering neighbors assist- 
ance in provisions and money. The Emperor of Austria, 
alarmed at this symptom, immediately marched an army 
of fifty thousand troops into their villages, and quartered 
them upon the inhabitants. Men of all classes, from the 
most illustrious houses to the humblest peasants, were 
dragged before a secret tribunal at Lemberg. Multitudes, 
upon the mere suspicion of cherishing friendly feelings to- 
ward the Poles, were imprisoned, and even put to the rack 
to extort a confession from them. The prisons of Bohemia 
were crowded with the victims of despotic cruelty, where 
many languished in misery till death released them. 

For the success of these heroic Poles, the clergy of our 
land offered their most fervent prayers, and the purest pa- 
triots sent them tokens of sympathy. For this same sym- 
pathy, the Emperor of Austria consigned many of the no- 
blest spirits of his empire to perish in loathsome dungeons. 

Wherever, m any portion of the realm, there are indi- 
cations of discontent, or any manifestation of the love of 
liberty, the government arrests and imprisons at its pleas- 
ure. There is no Habeas Corpus Act. There is no trial by 
jury. Suspicion and guilt are the same. Many of the 
most pure and noble spirits, for the very nobility of their 
souls, are now dying in the felon's cell. 



130 KINGS AND QUEF.NS. 



In 1820, the Neapolitans obtained from their king a Con- 
stitution, securing to them certain privileges. The fears 
of the Emperor of Austria were instantaneously aroused 
lest his people should also demand a constitution. He im- 
mediately assured the Neapolitans that he could not permit 
such an innovation in their government ; that the example 
might be injurious to his own subjects ; and that the Con- 
stitution must immediately be relinquished. The Neapol- 
itans, conscious of their inability to resist the powerful ar- 
mies of Francis, sent Prince Cimitele to Vienna, to en- 
deavor to avert the impending outrage. His supplications, 
however, were entirely unavailing. Metternich, the incar- 
nation of benevolent despotism, received him with haughti- 
ness and severity. " This revolution," said he, sternly, 
" is sowing the seeds of discontent in other lands. It must 
be crushed. Implore your king again to assume the reins 
of untrammeled sovereignty. Punish the individuals who 
have promoted this movement. Then will Austria look be- 
nignantly again upon you. If there is any hesitancy man- 
ifested in doing this, Austria will immediately send one 
hundred thousand troops into your territories to remove 
that hesitation." Before the innumerable hosts of Austria, 
the feeble forces of the Neapolitans could not stand for an 
hour. They were therefore compelled unconditionally to 
submit. Such are the measures which Austria adopts to 
quell the struggling spirit of liberty in Europe, and to per- 
petuate, not only in her own borders, but in the weaker 
nations which surround her, the prmciples of unlimited des- 
potism. 

When Napoleon was on the throne of France, Prussia 
declared war against him. " Gentlemen," said Napoleon 



FERDINAND II. 131 



to some of the Prussian officers who were surrendering to 
him their swords, "your master wages against me an un- 
just war. I say it candidly, I know not for what I am 
fighting. I know not what he desires of me. He has wished 
to remind me that I was once a soldier. I trust that he 
will find that I have not forgot my original avocation." 
Never did tornado descend with more sudden and desola- 
ting fury than the armies of Napoleon swept over Prussia. 
In fifteen days he finished the Prussian campaign, and an- 
nihilated the army of one hundred thousand men, having 
taken sixty thousand of them prisoners. After exacting 
enormous tribute, and dismembering the empire, he left 
the King of Prussia powerless, humbled to the very dust, 
a king but in name. The queen plead with Napoleon in 
the most pathetic terms to spare the Prussian monarchy, 
but in vain. " A fine woman, and gallantry," said Napo- 
leon, " are not to be weighed against affairs of state." The 
Prussian queen, a proud, ambitious beauty, soon died of 
mortification and a broken heart. 

When, a few years after. Napoleon, with the fragments 
of his ruined army, was fleeing from the disastrous cam- 
paign to Moscow, the Prussian king saw that there was a 
chance, in the final defeat of Napoleon, of his regaining his 
former territory and power. He issued a proclamation to 
his subjects, in which he informed them that he had no 
army, and no money to pay for troops. He promised them, 
however, that if they would volunteer their services, and 
vanquish their conqueror, he would, as a reward, confer upon 
them a constitution securing to them many civil rights. 
Universal enthusiasm pervaded the nation. Volunteers by 
tens of thousands flocked to the Prussian standard. At the 



132 KINGS AND QUEENS 



battle of Waterloo, Blucher, with his fresh legions animated 
by the promise of their sovereign, rushed upon Napoleon's 
exhausted troops and effected the rout. The Prussian army 
marched witli the allies to Paris. Napoleon was dethroned, 
Prussia was restored to its pristine grandeur. The army 
returned to Berlm in triumph, having accomplished its ob- 
ject. 

And now the people demanded of Frederic the Constitu- 
tion he had promised them. But immediately Metternich, 
in the name of the Emperor of Austria, interposes. " I can 
not allow," he says, "free institutions to be established so 
near my throne. It will excite disaffection among my sub- 
jects. I will therefore consider the granting of a constitu- 
tion as a declaration of war agamst me, and shall immedi- 
ately call into requisition my whole military force." Nich- 
olas, it is said, was also ready to co-operate with Ferdinand 
ill this policy. The present King of Prussia, Frederic 
William TV., is one of the noblest of men, probably a man 
of sincere piety. But he can not fully redeem his pledge 
without involving his kingdom in a desolating war. The 
odds against him would be so fearful that his defeat could 
hardly be doubted, and, in these days, when annexation is 
so fashionable, he might find his dominions blotted from the 
map of Europe, and annexed to Austria and Russia. One 
of the participators in the division of Poland would find 
this, however, a just retribution. 

But, m consequence of the crushing nature of this despo- 
tism, mind is so stagnant m Austria, the peasantry are so 
servile and ignorant, and the nobles so utterly abandoned 
to voluptuousness, that, as a general thing, there has been 
no discontent with the government. A dull and stagnant 



/■ 



FERDINAND II. 133 



tranquillity has settled down over the whole land. All that 
an Austrian desires is the permission to live to-day as he 
lived yesterday. The inhabitants of the United States, in 
their boundless freedom, both feel and manifest vastly more 
dissatisfaction with the measures of their government than 
the Austrians have expressed against the resistless despo- 
tism under which they so long have reposed. All travelers 
unite in representing them as, on the whole, a gay, thought- 
less, and contented people, never dreammg of any govern- 
ment better than then- own, and desiring no change. If, 
among the thu'ty millions who people this vast empire, here 
and there an active mind begms to exert its energies, and 
develops symptoms of discontent, the dangerous innovator 
is immediately arrested, and consigned to dungeons from 
whence he is never heard of more. It is said that there 
are now hundreds of the noblest spirits buried in the prisons 
of Austria for daring to think — those gloomy cells which 
have been hallowed by the sufferings of the great apostle 
of liberty, La Fayette. Man, however, singularly adapts 
himself to his situation. Even from the plantation, where 
the Southern slave toils, crushed by a despotism far more 
intolerable than that of Austria, the elastic mind, defrauded 
and degraded as it is, will find sources of enjoyment ; and 
shouts of revehy are more frequently heard from the cabins 
of the negro than the lamentations of despair. There are 
thousands of slaves full of mirth and glee, and who think 
not of a more honorable lot. It is said that there is no 
country in Europe where there is so little physical suffer- 
ing as m Austria — none where lazy ease and stupid con- 
tentment so universally prevail in the dwellings of the poor. 
Metternich was not long ago conversing with an English 

M 



134 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



gentleman upon that form of government under which the 
people are most likely to enjoy the most liappiness. In 
support of a government with which the people have no 
concern, he appealed very triumphantly to the easy condi- 
tion, the tranquillity, the absence of poverty, and the gen- 
erally comfortable state of the Austrian population. " Our 
policy," said he, "is to extend all possible material happi- 
ness to the whole population, to administer the laws patri- 
archally, to prevent their tranquillity from bemg disturbed. 
Is it not delightful to see those people looking so contented," 
continued he, turnmg round to the next window, and point- 
ing to the groups walking on the terrace of the Volksgar- 
ten, immediately before his palace ; " so much in the pos- 
session of what makes them comfortable, so well fed, so well 
clad, so quiet, and so religiously observant of order ? If 
they are injured in then* persons or their property, they have 
immediate and unexpensive recbess before our tribunals, 
and in that respect neither I nor any nobleman in the land 
has the smallest advantage over a peasant." 

It is interesting in this connection to contemplate the 
view which Alison takes of the influence of free institu- 
tions upon human happiness. '' A European, accustomed 
to the stillness of social life on the Continent, is almost 
stunned, when he lands at New York, by the din with 
which he is surrounded ; and even an Englishman, accus- 
tomed to the corresponding turmoil in which the commer- 
cial cities of his own country are involved, sees enough to 
convince him that an additional impulse has been commu- 
nicated to his already active race by the Democratic m- 
stitutions and vast capabilities of the New World. At first 
sight it would be supposed that a country such as this 

-4 



FERDINAND II. ]35 



possessing unbounded natural advantages, with unlimited 
power of elevation and means of advancement open to all, 
even the humblest of the community, and with no heredi- 
tary rank or arbitrary privileges to keep back, or prefer any 
in the common race, must be not only one of the most ris- 
ing, but one of the happiest in the world. Nevertheless, it 
is just the reverse ; and this is the people of all others 
where at once general progress is the greatest, and private 
discontent the most universal. All classes and ranks are 
dissatisfied with their condition, and plod on in sullen dis- 
content, which is so strong as to be apparent in their hab- 
its, their manjiers, even the expression of their counte- 
nances. 

" The scholars are dissatisfied. They allege that their 
rank is lower than in Europe ; that they are overshadowed 
by commercial wealth, and find no compensation in the es- 
teem or respect in which their avocations are held, or the 
society, often imperfectly educated and ill mannered, of 
which it is composed. 

" The merchants are dissatisfied. They declare tliat they 
are worn to death by excessive toil, and are surrounded by 
such a multitude of competitors and slippery undertakings, 
that it is seldom that they can preserve their fortunes dur- 
ing their lives, and still more rarely that they can bequeaili 
them in safety to their children. 

"Even the mechanics and cultivators are dissatisfied. 
Outwardly blessed beyond any other class that society has 
ever contained, they are gi'ound down by tlie pressure of 
competition, and incessant thirst for riches and advance- 
ment — a thirst which not even the boundless capabilities 
of the Mississippi have been able to slake. In all this 



136 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

there is nothing surprising. Individual dissatisfaction, and 
the desire to remove it by rising in the world, is at once 
the main-spring of the general progress, and the certain 
cause of private discontent in free communities. In des- 
potic states, all are contented because none can get on. 
In democratic states, none are contetited because all can 
get on. And thus it is that Nature, in mercy to her off- 
spring, equalizes in all respects, save from inequality in 
virtue, the sum of human happiness." Such is the philos- 
ophy of despotism. Slavery is the great mother of con- 
tentment, and the panacea for all earthly ills. 

We have alluded to Hungary, one of the most important 
of the provinces of this great empire. The feudal system 
still exists there, in all its ancient barbaric splendor. Prince 
Esterhazy, a Hungarian baron, is probably the richest man, 
who is not seated on a throne, in the world. He lives in 
the highest style of earthly grandeur. One of his four mag- 
niiicent palaces contains three hundred and sixty rooms for 
guests, and a theater. His estates embrace one hundred 
and thirty villages, forty to^vvais, and thirty-four castles. 
By the old feudal law, still undisturbed, he possesses un- 
limited power over his vassals, and can imprison, scourge, 
and slay at pleasure. Not long ago he visited England, 
and was a guest of the Lord of Holkham, one of the most 
wealthy proprietors of that island. While looking upon a 
very beautiful flock of two thousand sheep, the Lord of 
Holkham inquked if Esterhazy could show as fine a flock 
upon his estates. The wealthy baron smilingly replied, 
" My shepherds are more numerous than your sheep P 
This was literally true, for Esterhazy has two thousand 
five hundred shepherds. He has quite a little band of 



FERDINAND II. 137 



troops in his pay, and moves with military pomp and gor- 
geous retinue from palace to palace. Such is the grandeur 
of one of the magnates of Hungary. 

Sir Walter Scott thus describes the appearance of Prince 
Esterhazy at the coronation of George IV. " The box as- 
signed to the foreign embassadors presented a most brill- 
iant effect, and was perfectly in a blaze of diamonds. 
When the sunshine lighted on Prince Esterhazy in partic- 
ular, he glimmered like a galaxy. I can not learn positive- 
ly if he had on that renowned coat which has visited all 
the courts of Europe save ours, and is said to be worth 
£100,000 ($484,000), or some such trifle, and which costs 
the prince d£100 or £200 every time he puts it on, as 
he is sure to lose pearls to that amount. This was a Hus- 
sar dress, but splendid in the last degree ; perhaps too fine 
for good taste — at least it would have appeared so any where 
else. Beside the prince sat a good-humored lass, who seem- 
ed all eyes and ears, his daughter-in-law, I believe, who 
wore as many diamonds as if they had been Bristol stones." 
From this picture let us turn to the contemplation of the 
condition of the peasantry in that land. Thck cabins are 
built of twigs, often not defended even by the addition of 
mud on the inside from wind azid rain. Crowds of children 
appear at the doors literally naked, in company with pigs 
and goats, dogs, hens, and ducks, as if all were of the same 
order of existence. Many of the wretched hovels are half 
under ground, presenting a far less comfortable aspect than 
the wigwams of American Indians. It must be very diffi- 
cult to convince an inhabitant of the United States that 
the condition of these miserable peasants is preferable to 
that of an American farmer. 

M 2 



138 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



It was from the musical band of Esterhazy that the im- 
mortal composer Haydn emerged, A piece of music he 
composed to celebrate the birthday of the prince first drew 
him from obscurity. The prince, struck with the beauty 
of the piece, interrupted the band and demanded the au- 
thor. Young Haydn, diminutive in stature and miserably 
clad, was dragged trembling before him. "What, that 
blackamoor !" said Esterhazy ; " well, blackey, from hence- 
forth you shall be in my service. Go and get some clothes 
suitable to your rank. Don't let me see you any more in 
such a guise. You look miserably, sir. Get some new 
clothes, a fine wig with flowing curls, a lace collar, and 
red heels to your shoes. But mind, let your heels be high, 
that the elevation of your person may harmonize with that 
of your music. Go, and my attendants will supply you 
with all you want." 

The next day Haydn appeared before his old associates 
in the garb of a gentleman. But so awkward and gro- 
testjue did he appear in his new attire, that he was greet- 
ed wherever he went with shouts of laughter. Soon, how- 
ever, Europe resounded with the celebrity of this wonder- 
ful composer, and the name of Haydn will be remembered 
when the house of Esterhazy shall have perished forever ; 
so much more enduring are the creations of genius than 
' those of wealth and rank. 

Metternich is, in private life, distinguished for the ami- 
ability of his character and the suavity of his manners. 
He lives in a mansion of great splendor, and gives many 
and very rich entertainments. The banquets of the Prince 
de Metternich are renowned through Europe for the intel- 
lex3tual and physical luxuries which he always contrives to 



FERDINAND II. 139 



furnish. He has followed two wives to the grave. His 
present wife is extremely beautiful and fascmating, and is 
but thii'ty-SLK years of age, while her husband is seventy- 
two. He is very much attached to domestic joys, and is 
the idol of his numerous children. He has been in public 
life, and almost at the head of Austrian affairs, for more 
than half a century. Fifty more eventful years Europe 
has never knoMii. Three emperors of Austria have died 
since he arrived at manhood. Through the whole of Na- 
poleon's career he was the presiding genius in Austria. 
He has seen three kings of England, and two emperors of 
Russia, go down to the gTave. Nearly all the thrones of 
Europe have changed their occupants two or three times 
within his day, and nearly all the great diplomatists of Eu- 
rope with whom he has struggled in the division of empire, 
are now moldering in the dust. Ferdinand wears the 
crown, Metternich has swayed the scepter. Ferdinand 
reigns, Metternich has ruled. This prmce might mdeed 
have said, "I and my king!" 

The policy of Metternich will find few, if any, defenders 
in America ; it finds thousands and tens of thousands in 
Europe. Says Blackwood's Magazine : " How mucli wiser 
has that great statesman been than all the bustling inno- 
vators of his day, and how much more substantial is that 
policy by which he has kept the Austrian empire in happy 
and grateful tranquillity, while the Continent has been con- 
vulsed around him. No man knows better than Prince 
Metternich the shallowness and even shabbiness of the par- 
tisans of overthrow ; their utter incapacity of rational free- 
dom, the utter perfidy of their intentions, and the selfish 
villainy of their objects. Therefore he puts them down, 



140 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



he stifles their declamations by the scourge, he curbs their 
theories by the dungeon, he cools their political fever by 
banishing them from the land ; and thus governing Austria 
for the last forty years, he has kept it free from popular vi- 
olence, from republican precocity, from revolutionary blood- 
shed, and from the infinite wretchedness, poverty, and shame 
which smite a people exposed to the swindling of political 
impostors. 

"Thus Austria is peaceful and powerful while Spain is 
shattered by conspiracy ; while Portugal lies protected from 
herself only under the guns of the British fleet ; while Italy 
is committing its feeble mischiefs, and frightening its opera- 
hunting potentates out of their senses ; while every petty 
province of Germany has its beer-drinking conspirators, and 
the French king guards himself by bastions and batteries, 
and can not take an evening drive without fear of the 
blunderbuss, or lay his head on his pillow without the 
chance of being awakened by the roar of insurrection. 
These are the ' fruits of the tree ;' but it is only to be la- 
mented that the same sagacity and vigor, the same deter- 
mmation of character, and the same perseverance m prin- 
ciple, are not to be found in every cabmet of Europe. We 
should then hear no more of revolutions." 

Such are the arguments of despotism. If the people are 
to be enslaved, it is, indeed, wise to lay upon them hea^'y 
chains, and to surround them with deep darkness. But how 
much more happy are the free states of North America, 
where revolutions and conspiracies are unthought of, and 
every man feels that it is for his personal interest to sus- 
tain the government, of which he is himself a part ? 

Count Auersperg, one of Austria's nobles, familiarly ac- 



FERDINAND II. 141 



quainted with Metternich, has given the following poetic 
account of this celebrated minister : 

THE SALOON SCENE. 

" 'Tis evening; flame the chandeliers in the ornamented hall: 

From the crystal of tall mirrors, thousand fold their splendors fall 
In the sea of radiance moving, almost floating round, are seen 
Lovely ladies young and joyous, ancient dames of solemn mien. 

" And among them, steadily pacing with their orders gi'aced, elate, 
Here the rougher sons of war, there peaceful servants of the state ; 
But observed by all observers, wandering 'mid them, one I view, 
Whom none to approach dare venture save th' elect, illustrious few. 

"It is he who holds the rudder of proud Austna's ship of state. 

Who, 'mid crowned heads in congress, acting for her, sits sedate. 
But now see him ! O how modest, how polite to one and all. 

Gracious, courtly, smiling round him, on the great and on the small. 

" The stars upon his bosom glitter faintly in the circle's blaze, 
But a smile so mild and friendly ever on his features plays, 
Both when from a lovely bosom now he takes a budding rose, 

And now realms, like flowers wither'd, plucks and scatters as he goes. 

" Equally bewitching sounds it when fair locks his praise attends, 
Or when he, from heads anointed, kingly crowns so calmly rends. 
Ay, the happy mortal seemeth in celestial joys to swim. 

Whom his word to Elba doometh, or to Munkat's dungeons grim." 

The recent conAailsion in France has also shaken the 
despotism of Austria. Metternich has been constrained to 
resign his post. The walls of that vigorous despotism have 
been cracked, and light is gleaming in through the crevices 
upon both monarch and people. The advance of human 
liberty is onward ; and though her march may for a time be 
retarded, no earthly power can effectually stay her progress. 
An armed multitude surrounded the palace of the emperor. 
Intimidated by their threats, and warned by the fate of 



142 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



Louis Philippe, he sent a messenger to the door to announco 
to the mob that he freely granted every demand they made : 
" full liberty of the press, a more extensive representative 
Constitution, publicity of all proceedings in the courts of 
law, trial by jury, and, finally, the dismissal of the whole 
Metternich cabinet." Metternich himself was literally 
stoned out of his palace, and escaped in disguise. Austria 
is no longer an absolute monarchy. The people have risen 
in their might. Frenzied with untried liberty, it is greatly 
to be feared that the immediate results will be dreadful ; 
that the final issue can not fail to bo for the promotion of 
the mterests of mankmd, no one can doubt. There are few 
persons whose situation is less to be envied than that of 
those who now occupy the thrones of Europe. The politi- 
cal foresight of Napoleon Bonaparte was wonderful in the 
extreme. It was one of his strikmg remarks when upon 
the island of St. Helena, that within half a century Europe 
would be overrun either by Russian despotism or repubh- 
canism. It was considered a wild and extravagant state- 
ment. And yet the prediction is apparently soon to be 
fulfilled. While Europe has been trembling for many years 
in view of the progress of Russia, suddenly, to the aston- 
ishment of all the world, the scene changes, every throne 
trembles, and the spirit of repubUcanism appears to per- 
vade tlie Continent. It would not be strange if there should 
be yet a literal fulfillment of this remarkable prediction. 



NICHOLAS. 



Nicholas. 



T 



HE Emperor Paul of Russia, during the later years of 
his reign, developed a character of extraordinary eccentric- 
ity. By many it was supposed that he had become actu- 
ally insane. At one time he published an invitation, in the 
Court Gazette, to all the sovereigns of Europe, to come to 
St. Petersburg, and settle their disputes by a personal com- 
bat, in an inclosed field, with their prime ministers for es- 
quires. There was, indeed, some method in this madness. 
If enraged kings would but settle their quarrels by shed- 
ding their ov^oi blood, instead of compelling the unoffending 
peasant to cut down his equally unoffending brother, the 
interests of humanity would be greatly subserved. Paul 
had issued a decree, commanding the noblesse, of whatever 
rank or sex, to alight from their carriages whenever they 
met any member of the imperial family, and to stand in 
reverential homage till the person in whose veins the roy- 
al blood circulated had passed by. In a thousand ways 
his administration had become tyrannical and capricious in 
the extreme. He began to look with an angry eye upon 
his wife and his children, and dropped ominous hints of his 
intention to send Alexander into Siberian exile, to immure 
Cnnstantine in the dungeons of a prison, and to consign the 
empress-mother to the cells of a cloister. 

Alarmed at this threatening state of affairs, many of the 
leading nobles entered into a conspiracy to compel Paul to 

147 



148 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



abdicate. Alexander and Constantine, trembling in view 
of the doom impending over them, consented to it with the 
express provision that their father's person should be un- 
injured. At two o'clock in the morning of the 11th of 
March, 1801, a small band of armed men, in disguise, were 
seen approaching the palace of Paul. The night was dark, 
and, late as was the hour, lights were glimmering from 
many of the apartments. The suspicious-looking band 
boldly approached the massive gateway, and entered with- 
out difficulty. A sentinel at the door of the emperor's 
chamber opposed their entrance ; one blow with a saber 
laid him lifeless upon the floor. The conspirators rushed 
into the apartment of the king. Paul, alarmed by the tu- 
mult, had sprung from his bed, and hid himself in a clothes- 
press. The warm bed-clothes indicated that the emperor 
was not far off. He was soon discovered, and dragged from 
his retreat. With the utmost deliberation, the conspira- 
tors wound around his neck his own sash, and drew it in a 
tight knot. For a few moments the emperor struggled in 
the agony of strangulation, and then fell upon the floor 
motionless in death. . , - - ' • 

Alexander and Constantine were in the room below, 
awaiting the result of what they supposed was to be mere- 
ly a forced abdication. Nicholas was then but a child. 
The conspirators, consisting of the highest nobility of the 
realm, placed the body of the king upon his bed, and de- 
scended into the apartment where the two grand dukes, 
with intense solicitude, had been listening to the fearful 
struggle m the room above them. As they entered, Alex- 
ander eagerly inquired if they had spared his father's life. 
Silence proclaimed the melancholy truth. The two sons 



NICHOLAS. 149 



were overwhelmed with consternation, and gave utterance 
to the most passionate expressions of remorse and despair. 
The conspirators cahnly represented that the state of the 
empire indispensably demanded a change of policy, and 
that now there was no alternative but for Alexander to as- 
sume the reins of government. The next day a notice 
appeared in the Court Gazette announcing that Paul had 
suddenly died of apoplexy, and that Alexander was Emper- 
or of Russia. 

The young monarch ascended the throne, compelled, by 
the force of circumstances, to place the principal offices of 
emolument and honor in those hands which were red with 
his father's blood. Both the father and the grandfather of 
Alexander had fallen victims to assassination. As Alex- 
ander placed this dangerous crown upon his brow, a French 
lady of rank and wit wrote to a friend in Paris, " The 
young emperor walked to his coronation preceded by the 
assassins of his grandfather, followed by those of his father, 
and surrounded by his own." " Bshold," said Fouche, " a 
woman who speaks Tacitus." 

One of the most romantic incidents in the life of Alex- 
ander was his celebrated visit, with Frederic William III. 
of Prussia, to the tomb of Frederic the Great. Louisa, the 
ambitious and unhappy Queen of Prussia, planned, with 
shrewd knowledge of the human heart, the imposing ad- 
venture. Europe had banded itself against freedom in 
France. Napoleon, throwing himself at the head of the 
armies of the Revolution, and gathering all power into his 
own hands, was battering down every semblance of opposi- 
tion, and riding rough-shod over palaces and thrones. Lou-, 
isa, to unite Alexander in alliance with her husband by in- 

N2 



150 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

dissoluble ties, devised the plan of binding them together 
in a solemn oath at the tomb and by the side of the life- 
less remains of the renowned Frederic. The two monarchs 
repau-ed to Potsdam, the mausoleum of the Prussian kings 
At midnight, by the dim light of a torch, they proceeded, 
unaccompanied, to the tomb. Descending alone into those 
gloomy vaults, where the remains of departed monarchs 
were moldering to the dust, they approached the spot 
where the body of Frederic had been deposited. It was 
midnight. Not a sound disturbed the silence of the sepvil- 
cher. The feeble rays of their lamp but made the surround- 
ing gloom more impressive. The two monarchs each took 
one of the skeleton hands which had been so vigorous m hu- 
man slaughter, and by the most solemn oaths bound them- 
selves to stand side by side, with all their forces, till Napo- 
leon should be overthrown. Few souls could be insensible 
to such scenes. Vows thus ratified, one would think, could 
never be violated. 

Emerging from the sepulcher, they separated, Frederic 
secretly to gather his armies, and Alexander to head his 
legions, who were already marchmg, in alliance with Aus- 
tria, to encounter the armies of France. In less than one 
month from that time the battle of Austerlitz was fought, 
the hosts of Alexander were cut to pieces, and the proud 
monarch of all the Russias was compelled to sue for peace. 
Frederic, with most ignoble dissimulation, sent an ambas- 
sador to congratulate the French emperor over the signal 
victory he had obtained. Napoleon contemptuously replied, 
" You have come to present your master's compliments on 
a victory, but Fortune has changed the address of the letter." 
A month or two more passed away, and every fortress in 



NICHOLAS. 151 



Prussia was in Napoleon's power. Frederic was a fugitive 
from his kingdom. The Queen of Prussia, with clasped 
hands and weeping eyes, was imploring the clemency of 
the conqueror, and Napoleon, descending into the tomb at 
Potsdam, bore away the sword of the great Frederic to 
grace his triumph in Paris. 

For twenty-four years, Alexander, with great energy, 
governed the vast realms of Russia. He inherited from 
Paul an empire consisting of three hundred thousand square 
leagues. During his reign, he added to it, by foreign con- 
quests, thirty-six thousand square leagues more — a territory 
nearly equal to the whole superficies of France. Many a 
dark day overshadowed the reign of Alexander, and he was 
often the victim of the deepest disquietude and melancholy. 
During the latter years of his life, a wide-spread conspiracy 
pervaded the Russian empire, embracing many of the most 
influential officers in the army. Alexander had sad fore- 
bodings of the storm which was gathering, and yet knew 
not how to avert the danger. 

When Alexander was sixteen years of age, he was mar- 
ried to a prmcess of Baden, who was but fifteen years of 
age. The days of this emperor were darkened by many 
disappointments and sorrows, and were finally terminated 
in the deepest gloom. Alexander, surrendering himself to 
the dominion of passion, was soon alienated from his wife, 
and a state of hostility existed between them for many 
years, which greatly embittered the happiness of both. It 
was not until near the close of his life that there was any 
reconciliation. In the year 1829, Alexander, in conse- 
quence of the feeble health of his wife, accompanied her to 
Tanganroy, a small town upon the Sea of Azof, fifteen 



152 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



hundred miles from St. Petersburg. It was a long journey, 
and Alexander commenced it oppressed with the deepest 
dejection. He had for some time thought much of his ap- 
pearance before the bar of God in final judgment. Sin was 
the burden which weighed heavily upon his spirit. With 
prayers and tears he had in vain sought rehef. In his de- 
spondency, he had many forebodings that he should never 
return. 

The mornmg before he left St. Petersburg, he assembled, 
at four o'clock, a numerous company of ecclesiastics for a 
religious service. In the chill and the gloom of that early 
hour, he dro\e alone in his caleche, unattended even by a 
single servant, to the Monastery of St. Alexander Newski, 
which is surrounded by the chief cemetery of St. Peters- 
burg. Here his two only children, and many members of 
the royal family, were buried. The emperor, \^'Tapped in 
his cloak, and surrendered to the dominion of the most pro- 
found melancholy, bowed his head, with sighs and tears, as 
he listened to the mournful "chant for the dead," and then 
silently and sadly departed on his sorrowful journey. The 
diadem upon his brow pressed an aching head. The cloak 
of ermine which enveloped his form was folded over a heart 
throbbing with anguish. Days of melancholy passed slowly 
away, as in painful musings he sat silent in his carriage. 
Murmurs of conspiracies against his throne and his life had 
reached his ear, and in each wild ravine and at every soli- 
tary inn he apprehended the assassm's dagger. The health 
of the queen was much benefited by the journey, and at 
length they arrived upon the shore of the Sea of Azof. But 
these gloomy forebodings so preyed upon the mind of the em- 
peror that he was seized by a fever, which baffled all tlie skill 



NICHOLAS. 1J3 



of his physician. The disease was very rapid in its progress ; 
so much so, that it is still a question whether he did not 
fall a victim to poison. As he lay speechless upon his dying 
bed, surrounded by his weeping wife and sorrowing attend- 
ants, his countenance expressed the deep and settled dejec- 
tion which oppressed his soul. A more melancholy dying 
scene has rarely been witnessed. The Emperor of all the 
Russias was struggling unavailingly in the grasp of the king 
of terrors. It was the 1st of December, 1829. Dark 
clouds, boding a terrible tempest, were lowering over the 
empire, and consternation was impressed upon the counte- 
nances of aU who surrounded the imperial sufferer. The 
dying emperor, unable to articulate, motioned the qiTcen to 
draw near. Taking her hand, he pressed it tenderly, as if 
to bid her an eternal adieu, and in a few moments breathed 
his last. 

The cry immediately resounded through Europe that 
Alexander had fallen by poison. The departed monarch, 
having previously buried his two only children, left three 
brothers : Constantine, born 1779 ; Nicholas, born 1796 ; 
Michael, born 1798. Alexander, disliking the character 
of Constantine, was very unwilling to leave him as suc- 
cessor to his throne ; and Constantine had but little desire 
to encounter the toils and dangers of royalty, "When a 
mere boy, he was married to a German princess but fif- 
teen years of age. They endured each other through four 
weary years of strife, and then finally separated. Constan- 
tine soon became enamored of the daughter of a Polish 
count, and sought a divorce. The emperor gave his con- 
sent to this unprincipled arrangement upon the condition 
that Constantine would resign all right to the throne. The 



154 KINGS AND QUKENS. 

terms were gladly accepted by the weak-minded princt-, 
and he married the Polish beauty. As soon as the intelli- 
gence of the death of Alexander was received at St. Pe- 
tersburg, the Senate assembled to take the oath of allegi- 
ance to his successor, and, opening a packet which had 
been placed in their hands by Alexander, they found the 
following act of renunciation, signed by Constantine : 

" Conscious that I do not possess the genius, the talents, 
or the strength necessary to fit me for the dignity of a 
sovereign, to which my birth would give me a right, I en- 
treat your imperial majesty to transfer that right to him to 
whom it belongs after me, and thus assure forever the sta- 
bility of the empire. As to myself, I shall add by this re- 
nunciation a new guarantee and a new force to the en- 
gagements which I spontaneously and solemnly contracted 
on the occasion of my divorce from my first wife. All the 
circumstances in which I find myself strengthen my de- 
termination to adhere to this resolution, which will prove 
to the empue and to the whole world the sincerity of my 
sentiments." 

Another document appointed Nicholas as the heu* to the 
throne, and the Senate now declared him to be emperor. 
He, however, refused to receive the crown until he should re- 
ceive from Constantine himself an acknowledgment of his 
resignation. As Constantine was absent, at some distance 
from St. Petersburg, three weeks elapsed before his formal 
renunciation was received. Nicholas consequently ascend- 
ed the throne, and dated his accession from the day of the i 
death of Alexander, December 1st, 1825. Nicholas was 
then twenty -nine years of age. 

The conspiracy to which we have alluded had extended 



NICHOLAS. 155 



its secret influences all over the empire. The object of the 
conspirators was to overthrow the unlimited despotism of 
the Russian government, and to establish a constitutional 
monarchy m its stead. Many of the most prominent no- 
bles in the realm, and leadmg officers in the army, were en- 
gaged in the plot. 

Nicholas was then twenty-nine years of age, and was 
ready with alacrity to assume any responsibilities and to 
face any' dangers. The insurgents, who had conspired to 
murder all the members of the royal family, and to cement 
the new government in their blood, thronged the streets of 
St. Petersburg, and with trumpets and banners were gath- 
ering the well-armed multitude for the conflict. Divisions 
of the army, headed by veteran generals, were arrayed 
against the new monarch. Nicholas came down upon 
them with the energy of Napoleon. A short but very 
bloody conflict ensued. The shot from both parties pro- 
duced dreadful ravages ; but the emperor, heading his own 
troops, fearlessly exposed himself to all the peril. As soon 
as Nicholas found that he must fire upon his iasurgent sub- 
jects, he sent a message to the queen, his wife, to inform 
her of the sad necessity. She was m the palace, surround- 
ed by the most distinguished ladies of the empire, trem- 
blingly awaiting the issue of the conflict. When she heard 
the thunders of the artillery in the streets, and the clamor 
of the strife in which her husband and his subjects were 
engaged, she threw herself upon her knees, bathed in tears, 
and remained in fervent prayer till they came to inform 
her that the revolt was crushed. The number slain is not 
known, as the bodies were coUected and plunged into holes 
cut through the thick ice of the Neva. Thus veiled from 



156 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

mortal eyes, they floated darkly down to their ocean sepul- 
cher. Such were the stormy scenes in the midst of which 
Nicholas ascended the throne. 

During the night succeeding that awful day, one of the 
leading conspirators was brought into the presence of the 
young monarch. Tlie conspirator, one of the highest no- 
bles of the realm, stood petrilied before the proud eye of his 
sovereign as he received the stern rebuke, " Your father 
was a faithful servant, but he has left behind him degener- 
ate sons." 

" For such an enterprise as yours," said Nicholas, " large' 
resources were requisite. On what did you rely ?" 

" Sire," replied the conspirator, " things of this kind can 
not be spoken of before witnesses." 

Regardless of the danger, Nicholas led the conspirator 
into a private apartment, where they conversed a long time 
together entirely alone. Here Nicholas listened to truths 
which in no other way could have come to his ear. He 
was informed, in the plainest language, of the injustice 
and oppression with which the empire was filled, of the 
impotence of the laws, the venality of tlie judges, the cor- 
ruption which pervaded all departments of the government, 
the atrocious injustice committed without any possibility 
of redress, the punishments arbitrarily inflicted — all were 
revealed to him in the language of honest indignation. 
Nicholas saw at once that hidden fires were rolling with 
volcanic energy beneath his throne. 

Many of these conspirators were executed. Fifteen offi- 
cers of high rank were placed upon the scaffold together. 
As the drop fell, the rope of one broke, and he was precipi- 
tated to the ground. As he rose struggling upon his knees, 



NICHOLAS. 157 



sorely bruised by the action of the rope and the fall, he ex- 
claimed, " Truly nothing ever succeeds with me, not even 
deathP There is, indeed, melancholy sublimity in this re- 
mark, giving one a glimpse of a life of utter disappoint- 
ment and joylessness. Another rope was procured, ad- 
justed around his neck ; the drop again fell, and the un- 
happy man was launched into that mysterious world of 
spirits, for which all the joys and sorrows of time are but 
preparatory. 

The palace of Peterhoff, a few miles from St. Petersburg, 
is perhaps the principal abode of imperial wealth and lux- 
ury. It would not, however, be an easy task to enume- 
rate the various palaces of the czar. Peterhoff is a pile of 
buildings compounded of every conceivable style of. archi- 
tecture. The saloons of that princely abode are filled with 
every contrivance which wealth and art can administer for 
human gratification. It is the throne of luxury. The 
pleasure-grounds attached to the palace are ornamented to 
the extreme of what human ingenuity can eft'ect. Artifi- 
cial cascades and fountains, erected at an incalculable ex- 
pense, astonish and bewilder the spectator. 

During the annual fetes in July, this whole wide-spread 
scene is illuminated with the utmost brilliance. Tower 
and dome, grove and lake, fountain and cascade, suddenly 
emerge from the darkness of midnight into a scene of the 
most dazzling splendor. Millions of torches twinkle in 
every direction. Every twig, every leaf, and every drop 
of spray, sparkle with colored lights. Rockets and fire- 
works of every conceivable variety give a magic splendor 
to palace and bower, such as the visions of romance can 
hardly realize. Here it is that the famous artificial tree is 

O 



153 KINGS AND QUEENS 



reared, which has been so often described. It is so inge- 
niously constructed with root, and trunk, and branch, and 
leaf, and bud, as to deceive the most practiced eye. Its 
shade and its beauty lure the loiterer through the grounds 
to approach. A seat, apparently of the natural velvet sod, 
invites him to sit down and view the enchanting scene 
around. The pressure of the seat touches a spring, which 
turns the luxuriant tree into a shower-bath, and from every 
twig jets of water are pressed down upon the astonished 
stranger. 

This is one of the homes of Nicholas, if a care-worn 
monarch can be said to have any home. The poor proba- 
bly look to him with envy. And yet often, harassed with 
anxiety, he must almost covet the condition of the hum- 
blest peasant in his realms. The human heart is essen- 
tially the same every where ; and in all abodes, life comes 
freiglited with the burden of the primeval curse. The 
crowned families of Europe have seen as many days of 
darkness and gloom as any members of the human race. 

The Winter Palace, in St. Petersburg, is also an abode 
of very unusual splendor. There are usually residmg be- 
neath the imperial roof, as members of the royal household, 
more than one thousand persons. The most magnificent 
and extensive suite of rooms in the world are to be found 
in connection with this palace. These apartments of grand- 
eur are appropriated to the ceremonies of the court ; cere- 
monies more imposing, and, perhaps, of more rigid etiquette, 
than are to be witnessed in any other palace in Europe. 
Passing through the massive gateway, you are ushered 
into a hall of magnificent dimensions, so embellished with 
plants and shrubs of rare beauty and perfume, that you al- 



NICHOLAS. 159 



most fancy that you are sauntering through the walks of a 
flower-garden. Ascending a marble stair-case, you are in- 
troduced to an apartment of princely grandeur, called the 
Hall of the Marshals. Passing through this, you enter an- 
other, and then another, and then another, all of great 
magnificence, until you arrive at the grand audience cham- 
ber, of still more majestic dimensions. This is the place 
of presentation to the emperor. 

When the hour of presentation arrives, some massive 
doors from the inperial chapel are thrown open, and a crowd 
of military officers, often a thousand in number, in the 
most brilliant uniform, enter the apartment, the van-guard, 
as it were, of the escort of the czar. These, passing through 
the audience chamber, disappear in the unkno\STi regions 
of the palace beyond. But still an apparently intermina- 
ble throng, glittering in gala dresses, pours through the 
chamber. At last the grand master of ceremonies makes 
his appearance, in a coat of gold, waving his insignia of 
office, followed by the royal pair. And thus the emperor 
and empress are ushered. They bow gracefully to the rep- 
resentatives of other courts, who are honored by a presen- 
tation to their august majesties. A numerous group of 
younger members of the imperial family, ministers of state, 
pages, &c., follow m the train of royalty. No one is per- 
mitted to speak to the emperor or empress but in reply to 
questions which they may ask. Nicholas, stately and re- 
served, says but little. His spouse, more affable, slips 
from her hand her glove, and presents it condescendingly to 
the person honored by a presentation. The guest receiver 
it, and presses it with fervor to his lips. Such is the scene 
of presentation in the court of Nicholas. There is always 



160 KINGS AND QUEENS, 



a very splendid ball given in the palace on the 1st of January, 
and usually more than twenty thousand guests are present. 
This famous Winter Palace is almost a city of itself. 

Notwithstanding, however, all this splendor, the lot of 
Nicholas is any thing but an enviable one. The cares of 
his unwieldy empire weigh heavily upon him, and he is 
ever in danger of assassination. In the autumn of 1843, 
Nicholas visited Berlin. In returning, he left his carriage 
at a particular point, to proceed by the common route, while 
he, with a portion of his suite on horseback, turned aside to 
visit a veteran officer who resided at some distance from 
the main road. The carriage of the emperor proceeded 
with its customary escort. As the shades of evening came, 
there suddenly emerged from the road-side a party of arm- 
ed horsemen in black masks, who surrounded the carriage, 
and discharged into it a volley of musketry. The leader 
then rode to the window of the carriage, and, looking in, 
to his surprise, saw that it was empty. Uttering a few 
words to his companions, they dashed away at full speed. 

Nicholas, consequently, never dares to announce when or 
where he intends to take a journey. All his movements 
are conducted with the greatest secrecy. He almost in- 
variably commences his journeys at midnight. He conse- 
crates his most sleepless vigilance to suppress all freedom 
of thought, and every tendency to civil liberty in his 
realms. He prohibits his nobles from residing abroad, lest 
they should inhale the atmosphere of political freedom ; 
and if any noble ventures to disobey his commands, tho 
confiscation of his estates effectually prevents his return, 
or exile to Siberia quenches the dangerous flame of inde- 
pendence in the snows of eternal winter. 



NICHOLAS. 161 



Nicholas was born in the year 1796, and is, consequently, 
now fifty-two years of age. He is, in all respects, one of 
the most extraordinary men now living. It is said that ho 
is, in form and feature, the handsomest man on the conti- 
nent of Europe. Lord Londonderry, after a visit to his 
court, declared, that if all the millions who compose his sub- 
jects were assembled, Nicholas, from his commanding fig- 
ure, his symmetrical and intellectual features, and his 
princely bearing, would be selected from them all, as de- 
signed by the God of Nature for then chieftain. His mind 
is of the highest order, of sleepless activity, and indomita- 
ble energy ; uniting, in that wonderful combination which 
made Napoleon the master-spirit of his age, the compre- 
hensiveness of the man of genius with the practical man's 
minutest acquaintance with details. He is alike at home 
every where — in the army, in the navy, in the cabinet. 
His untiring energies are ever active in controlling the 
heterogeneous interests of his boundless empire. 

His diplomatic corps is, by universal admission, the 
ablest in Europe. In England, as in America, a man is 
appointed to an important station, not because he is the 
most suitable man, but because there are certain interests 
to be conciliated, or votes to be gained, or friends to be re- 
warded. But Nicholas feels none of these trammels. He 
reigns in unlimited despotism. Dukes and barons are noth- 
ing to him. He cares not who was a man's father, or in 
what country he was born. Looking simply at the quali- 
fications of the individuals selected as the instruments of 
his government, he has gathered around him, from all the 
nations of Europe and from America, the most brilliant 
and the most comprehensive talent. No cabinet in the 

02 



162 KINGS AND QUEENS 



Eastern hemisphere is probably equal to the associated di- 
plomatists of Nicholas. 

In the year 1840, Nicholas determined to construct a 
rail-road from St. Petersburg to Moscow. Capitalists from 
England, France, Belgium, and, indeed, from almost every 
country in Europe, sent in their proposals. Among the 
rest, the young mechanics from the United States, Messrs. 
Harrison, Eastwick, and Winants, presented their terms. 
Nicholas had ascertained, through his agents, that these 
young men were intelligent, enterprising, practical me- 
chanics, who were to be found early and late in their work- 
shops ; and though others, with ample means, contracted 
to construct the work at a much lower rate than they, he 
selected the young Americans. Others had friends in court 
to advocate their cause, and money to bribe subalterns ; 
but Nicholas, with that business talent which character- 
izes all his actions, regardless of all such considerations, se- 
lected for his agents those who would most efiectually ac- 
complish his plans. Workmen from the United States are 
now at the head of this grand enterprise. The emperor, 
on a recent visit to this road, v/as so much gratified with 
the skill and energy manifested by the contractors, that he 
presented each of them with a diamond ring. The road 
will be completed in 1849. 

This powerful ruler, Mr. Nicholas Romanow, reigns with 
unlimited sway over about seventy millions of the human 
family, a population somewhat exceeding that of Great 
Britain, France, and the United States combined. The 
emperor, possessed of despotic power, can summon resour- 
ces such as no other monarch in Christendom can com- 
mand. He has a militia consisting of eighteen millions of 



NICHOLAS. 163 



well-armed and respectably-disciplined men. His stand- 
ing army of thoroughly-drilled troops, many of them vet- 
erans in the hardships and horrors of war, numbers one 
million of men : two hundi-ed thousand of these are cav- 
alry, unsurpassed, perhaps, by any other equal body of 
mounted troops in the world. His navy consists of about 
fifty ships of the line, with frigates, sloops, floating batter- 
ies, and gun-boats almost without number, and is now 
manned by about sixty thousand men, daily exercised in 
all the arts of war ; and the shores of the Euxiiie and the 
Baltic incessantly resound with the blows of the ship-car- 
penter, as month after month new ships are launched upon 
their waters. The annual revenue of the emperor is about 
fifty millions of dollars. The territory over which this 
monarch extends his scepter comprises one seventh of the 
habitable globe, extending from the Baltic Sea across the 
whole breadth of Europe and of Asia to Behring's Straits, 
and from the eternal ices of the northern pole to the sunny 
clime of the pomegranate and the fig. Such is the gigan- 
tic power which Nicholas wields, and with which, with 
more than Roman ambition, he is apparently aiming at 
the sovereignty of the world. 

To thwart the designs of Nicholas has been for many 
years one of the great objects of French and English diplo- 
macy ; and there is, at the present time, a political con- 
test going on between these two powers and Nicholas, 
which, though it has excited but little interest on this side 
of the Atlantic, is an all-engrossing subject of interest in 
every cabinet of Europe. 

The favorite plan of Nicholas, and one which has never 
for one moment been lost sight of since first projected by 



164 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



the dissolute and ambitious Catharine, is to found univers- 
al dominion by the monopoly of the commerce between Eu- 
rope and Asia. To do this, he must so extend and strength- 
en his central power as to have nothing to fear from the 
other nations of Europe. He must so enlarge and perfect 
liis navy as to wrest from Great Britain the scepter of the 
ocean ; and he must subjugate Turkey, and make Con- 
stantinople his third capital, and fortify his Gibraltar's rock 
at the Dardanelles. 

Toward the accomplishment of these projects he is ad- 
vancing in a career triumphant, rapid, and apparently re- 
sistless. By diplomatic intrigue and perfidy, and the pow- 
er of her armies, Russia had succeeded in annexing a large 
portion of the empire of Poland to her territory. The 
Poles, after several years of national bondage, manifested 
some restiveness under the yoke, and made an heroic at- 
tempt to regain their independence. Almost every bosom 
in the civilized world throbbed in sympathy with their strug- 
gle ; prayers ascended in their behalf from nearly all our 
churches ; banners, and arms, and money were forward- 
ed to them from our cities ; but the imperial autocrat 
poured in upon the ill-fated territory his resistless armies. 
They swept over Poland with hurricane fury. One wild 
shriek vibrated upon the ear of Europe, so deep and pierc- 
ing that it even passed the Atlantic wave, and rolled along 
our shores, and Poland was no more. Her armies were 
massacred. Her nobles were driven into Siberian exile. 
Her cities and villages became the property of Russia. 
Her population of about twenty millions of inhabitants 
were transformed into the subjects of the grasping con- 
queror, to swell his armies and to fight his battles ; and her 



NICHOLAS. 165 



annual revenue of twenty millions of dollars were emptied 
into his overflowing treasury. 

The following painful anecdotes, related by a recent trav- 
eler in Russia, give one a faint idea of Siberian exile, and 
of what it is to live under a despotic government. We 
quote from " The Czar," by J. S. Maxwell : 

" A number of prisoners passed by while we remained in 
the little hamlet. Ninety-six men and women, chained in 
couples, clothed in coarse gray coats, some with and some 
without shoes, and with heavy weights fastened to their 
limbs, marched painfully and slowly along, guarded by a 
few soldiers. Three carts, containing several women and 
children and a dying man, followed after ; the whole pro- 
cession closed with a troop of noisy Cossacks, with their 
long pikes resting on the right stirrup, guns slung upon the 
back, and heavy whips hanging from the left wrist. The 
peasantry threw the prisoners pieces of copper com. The 
common people evince their commiseration for the exile or 
the subject of the knout by giving them the means of pur- 
chasing gentle treatment. There were several among the 
prisoners in w^hose appearance we discovered something 
that assured us of their decided superiority to the wretclies 
with whom they were associated. One of these, a tall and 
commanding figure, and a noble but emaciated counte- 
nance, gazed earnestly, as if he would have said, 'Oh ! that 
I might tell you the secret of my being here.' Another, 
who looked at us imploringly, and said in French, ' Do 
you go to Moscow?' was struck in the face by a soldier, 
and ordered to be quiet. Alas ! was there no rescue, no 
help, no hope at hand ? Excited almost beyond control for 
those exiles in whose expression innocence was written, we 



166 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

watched the miserable band upon its di'eary journey until 
the rattling of their irons no longer grated upon the heart. 

"The exiles, upon their arrival in Siberia, practice the 
trade they understand. The nobles, and those who have 
learned no trade, are obliged to work in the mines. There 
are many people now in Siberia who have never ascertained 
for what cause they have been sent there. M. Michelov- 
sky, an advocate of Warsaw, was mvolved In the Polish in- 
surrection, and an order was given for his arrest and exile. 
The police, however, seized by mistake another INIichelov- 
sky, a notary of Wilna, who was expedited to Siberia, and, 
notwithstanding his protestations, was obliged to remain 
there until the error was rectified, a process of two years. ! 
The Emperor Paul commanded an offender to be taken and 
punished ; but his minister, not being able to find the indi- 
vidual, seized in his stead a poor German who had recent- 
ly arrived, tore out his nostrils, sent him to Siberia, and 
reported to Paul that his orders had been obeyed. The 
German remained in exile until the accession of Alexan- 
der, who brought him back to St. Petersburg, and gave him 
the sole right of importing lemons." 

The kingdom of Sweden lines the western shore of the 
Baltic Sea. It would be convenient for Nicholas to have 
possession of the whole coast. It is said that Russian gold 
has already bought up the influence of her leading nobles 
and statesmen ; and there is now m Sweden a powerful 
party, with the king himself at their head, who openly ad- 
vocate the annexation of their territory to the powerful em- 
pire upon whose border they lie. They say that it will be 
far more advantageous for Sweden to become assimilated 
with this majestic nation, to share its glory and its power, 



NICHOLAS. 167 



than to be a nominally independent but powerless empire, 
which may, at any moment, be inundated with Russian 
troops. Thus Sweden virtually belongs to Russia. Her 
king is but the viceroy of Nicholas, to do his bidding in the 
furtherance of aU his plans. 

And Norway, a narrow strip of land, washed by the Ger- 
man Ocean, is left unmolested, simply because she is not 
worth possessing. Her cold and cheerless wastes, inhabited 
by a population of but about a million, without a navy, and 
with hardly the shadow of an army, only add, as a barrier, 
to the interior strength of that powerful monarch, who can 
fiU her whole territory with Russian troops whenever it 
shall be his will. Thus the stormy waves of the German 
Ocean are the only real limits to the power of Nicholas in 
the West. 

Let us now turn to the East, and note the acquisitions 
of this gigantic empire in that direction. There is a large 
promontory jutting out into the Black Sea from the north, 
called the Crimea. The possession of this promontory is of 
vital importance to any power that could control the com- 
merce of the Euxine. Turkey owned it. Nicholas wanted 
it. Asking no embarrassing questions, he coolly took it. 
Mahmoud shook his shaggy beard, grasped his cimiter, 
and remonstrated. As there was no room for argument, 
Nicholas prudently forbore a waste of words, but, impress- 
ively pointing to his guns and his troops, advised his good 
friend the sultan to keep still. Mahmoud took the hint, and 
lexei-cised discretion, that "better part of valor." 

Sevastopol, on the southern shore of the Crimea, is now 
the naval depot of the Euxine fleet. Here an immense fleet, 
manned by thirty thousand seamen, rides proudly, armed 



168 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



and provisioned, ready to unmoor at a moment's warning 
for any expedition of aggrandizement. For many years 
Nicholas has had twelve thousand men constantly employed 
in throwing up fortifications around this important position. 
No assailment now can probably harm it. 

Said Captain Crawford, of the British navy, as not long 
ago he visited the Russian fleet at Sevastopol, " It was a 
strange feelmg which came over me as an Englishman, and 
an officer in the British navy, on finding myself at sea with 
six-and-twenty Russian line of battle ships, manned with 
nearly thirty thousand men, and four months provision on 
board, knowing, as I did, that for the protection of the coasts 
of my own country, of our ports, of our mercantile shipping 
in the Baltic, the North Sea, and the Channel, we had but 
seven line of battle ships m a state of preparation, and those 
not fully manned. I confess that, confident as I felt in the 
superior skill and activity of my countrymen, I almost 
trembled for their preservation of the ancient sovereignty 
of the seas." 

On the eastern shores of the Black Sea, between her 
waves and the Caspian, lies Circassia, a wild and mount- 
amous region, filled with gloomy ravines and inaccessible 
crags, where small bands of resolute men might bid defiance 
to a host. Among these defiles, the cradle of the Cauca- 
sian or European race, for many ages there has lived a brave 
and warlike people, famed for martial prowess and personal 
beauty, and for the spirit of indomitable mdependence. 

Russia, having obtamed undisputed possession of the 
western and northern side of the Euxine, cast her eyes 
across to the eastern shore, and resolved to subdue the war- 
like race which for ages had ranged those wilds in uncon- 



NICHOLAS. 169 



quered freedom. The Euxine fleet was all ready to trans- 
port the armies of the emperor to the shores of Cu'cassia. 
The plan was, however, found more difficult of achievement 
than was at first supposed. These hardy men, with their 
wives and daughters by their side, fought fiercely for their 
liberties. From the year 1828 to 1832, these distant soli- 
tudes resounded with the din of the most determmed and 
murderous war. The explosion of the Russian artillery 
rivaled the thunders of heaven as they reverberated around 
the summits of the Caucasian Mountains. Army after 
army was cut vip in these Thermopylae fastnesses ; but still 
new thousands were poured into the doomed country, till at 
last numbers and discipline triumphed, and the brave Cir- 
cassians were vanquished. Their country became, by the 
right of might, a province of rapacious E-ussia ; and now 
the Russian flag floats fi-om almost every promontory of the 
Black Sea, and her fortresses frown in the strongest holds 
of these bleak and barren mountains. The importance 
which Nicholas attaches to this conquest may be inferred 
from the fact that he has now an army of more than one 
hundred thousand men stationed throughout his fortresses 
in these dismal solitudes. The most violent insurrections 
are continually breaking out among these indomitable 
mountaineers, but Nicholas relentlessly extinguishes them 
in blood. Not long ago he forcibly removed five thousand 
Polish families to people these semi-barbarian realms. The 
whole population of a provmce was thus swept away from 
their homes, and their dwellings assigned to Russian sub- 
jects. The removal of the inhabitants of Podolia to the 
steppes of Caucasus was perhaps, viewed in all its aspects, 
as atrocious an act of despotism as the world has ever wit- 

P 



170 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

nessed. This measure was not directed against a rude and 
distressed population of obtuse sensibilities, but against 
families of refinement, gentlemen and scholars, under the 
plea of their being " ambitious in all their plans." The 
men were sentenced to be immediately transported ; their 
wives and children were to be sent after them. The scenes 
of violence and heart-rending separation which ensued, no 
tongue can tell. They were incorporated into the Cossack 
colonies settled upon the uncultivated steppes of Caucasia. 

And why is Russia thus lavish of her blood and treasure 
to conquer these warlike bands, and to take possession of 
their uncultivated territory ? It is because through Cir- 
cassia lies the road to Persia. Circassia subjugated, the 
passes of the Caucasian Mountains are opened for her 
troops. Her fleet can float undisturbed upon the Caspian. 
Persia lies at her mercy ; and the door is wide open 
through which to push her troops to the Hither and the Fur- 
ther Indies. With Roman ambition she seeks the conquest 
of new worlds, and England already trembles lest Calcutta 
should eventually become but one of the outposts of her 
conquering rival. 

Apparently the great object which Nicholas at present 
has in view, and that for the accomplishment of which his 
main energies are now directed, is to obtain possession of 
the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus. The strait which 
connects the Mediterranean with the Sea of Marmora was 
originally called the Hellespont, that is, HeUes-sea, j)o?it 
being the abridged Latm word for sea. It received this 
name from the fabulous legend of a young lady, escaping 
from a cruel mother-in-law, and falling into this strait, 
which hence received the name of Helles-pont. At the 



NICHOLAS. 171 



mouth of the Hellespont there are four strong forts com- 
manding the entrance. These forts, armed with heavy ar- 
tillery, are called the Dardanelles ; and hence the strait it- 
self frequently takes the name of the Dardanelles. This 
strait is about thirty -three miles long, and from half a mile 
to a mile and a half in width. You must sail through this 
strait to go up to Constantinople and the Black Sea. Hav- 
ing passed through this serpentine stream, with the shores 
of Europe upon the one side and the headlands of Asia 
upon the other, you enter the Sea of Marmora, a vast 
body of water one hundred and eighty miles in length and 
sixty miles in breadth. Crossing this sea to the northern 
shore, you find the opening of the Bosphorus, with the glit- 
tering domes and minarets of Constantinople on the west- 
ern bank, near its mouth. This strait is fifteen miles long 
and about one fourth of a mile in width. Its general as- 
pect is said very much to resemble the Hudson in the vi- 
cinity of West Point, only the landscape is far more highly 
cultivated, the shores being lined with palaces through the 
whole length of the strait. 

The scenery of the Bosphorus, in its highly-cultivated 
shores ; in the gorgeous and fairy -like beauty of its Oriental 
architecture ; in the transparent depth of its cloudless at- 
mosphere ; in the rich and picturesque attire of robes, and 
turbans, and veils which adorn the congregated multitudes 
from all the nations of the East ; in the motley and gro- 
tesque assemblage of travelers from every country in Eu- 
rope and every province in Asia ; in the air of mystery with 
which every thing is enveloped ; in the infinite variety of 
water-craft which crowd the strait, from the mammoth ship- 
of-war, gloomy and threatening, to the fragile and gayly- 



172 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



decked caique, so light, so buoyant, that, like a bubble, it 
skims the wave — ^in all these combinations of the beauti- 
ful, the picturesque, the romantic, the Bosphorus stands 
pre-eminent and unrivaled, Paris is the metropolis of 
France, London is the capital of the British empire, but 
Constantinople is the center of the world. 

On the eastern or Asiatic shore of the Bosphorus lies the 
suburb of Scutari, in itself a vast city, embowered in the 
luxuriant foliage of the cypress. The northern streets of 
Constantinople are washed by a lovely bay, called the Gold- 
en Horn, which constitutes the harbor of the city of the 
sultan. On the opposite shore of this bay lies Pera, glit- 
tering with the palaces of the European embassadors, all of 
whom reside there, and which, on that account, the Turk, 
in his politeness, has embellished with the name of the 
" Swme's Quarter." 

The Bosphorus conducts you to the Euxine or Black 
Sea, a vast inland ocean, receiving into its immense res- 
ervoir the floods of the Danube, the Dneister, the Dneiper, 
the Don, and the Cviban, and opening through these rivers 
boundless regions for commercial enterprise. The magni- 
tude and importance of the commerce of the Black Sea, 
even at the present time, may be inferred from the fact 
stated by Commodore Porter, that, during his residence at 
Buyukdere, a beautiful village on the European side of 
the Bosphorus, a few miles above Constantinople, from fif- 
teen to twenty ships and brigs, on the average, in addition 
to numberless smaller craft, passed his door every hour 
going up the strait into the Black Sea. 

From this sketch it will at once be perceived that the 
power in possession of the Dardanelles, at the mouth of the 



NICHOLAS. 173 



Hellespont, can at any moment close all the commerce 
of Constantinople and the Black Sea. Said the Emperor 
Alexander, " The Dardanelles are the key of my house. 
Let me get possession of them, and my power is irresisti- 
ble." Let Nicholas obtain possession of the Dardanelles, 
and he is henceforth not merely invincible, but invulnera- 
ble. No power can approach his majestic empire. It 
; frowns down upon Europe from its inaccessible position, 
ever prepared to pour down its countless hordes upon any 
province doomed to destruction. The Black Sea becomes 
the harbor of Russia, into which no foe can possibly pen- 
etrate ; its shores her navy-yard, inapproachable by foreign 
fleet or army ; and this vast foreign power can then press 
its resistless way down upon the sunny plains of South- 
ern India, till her trading factories shall supply those vast 
territories, and tiU English goods, and finally English men, 
are driven out of Asia. 

This was the plan which Napoleon had in view in the 
invasion of Egypt. He wished to attack England, which 
most unrighteously was warring against the French Re- 
public, in her only vulnerable point, the Indies. He knew 
that the English were hated by the people whose country 
they had invaded ; and he hoped, by rousing the subjugat- 
ed nations to resistance, and leaduig them by European 
skill, to drive the invaders from the country, and thus to 
open new channels of communication and trade with the 
East through the Mediterranean and the Red Sea. 

So far as England was concerned, upon all the recog- 
nized prmciples of the laws of nations, the invasion of 
Egypt was perfectly just, and the plan conceived by Na- 
poleon was brilliant in the extreme. Egypt was probably 

P2 ' 



174 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



never so well governed as during the time it was occupied 
by the French army. The people, oppressed by the merci- 
less rapine and cruelty of the Mamelukes, were amazed at 
even any semblance of justice between man and man. To 
Dessaix, who had the command in Upper Egypt, they gave 
the title of " Sultan the Just." Napoleon established a Di- 
van or Parliament, through which the people might make 
known their wants. He insisted upon incorruptible jus- 
tice on the part of the rulers. The borders of the desert 
had been for centuries infested with robbers, who often 
made incursions upon the defenseless villages with entire 
impunity. The strong arm of Napoleon almost immedi- 
ately repressed all these disorders. One day, when Napo- 
leon was surrounded by the sheiks, who looked down with 
perfect contempt upon the common people, information was 
brought to him that some of these marauders of the desert 
had slain a peasant and carried off his flocks. Napoleon 
immediately ordered an officer to take three hundred horse- 
men and two hundred camels, and pursue the robbers, if 
necessary, to the ends of the earth, till they should take 
them. " Was the poor wretch your cousin,'''' said a sheik, 
contemptuously laughmg, "that you are in such a rage at 
his death?" "He was more," replied Napoleon ; "he was 
one whose safety Providence had intrusted to my care." 
"Wonderful!" replied the sheik; "you speak like one in- 
spired by the Almighty." 

Steam navigation is now opening a new era upon India. 
From England to Bombay, by the way of the Mediterra- 
nean Sea and the Euphrates, is but seven thousand miles, 
with but one hundred and twenty miles land carriage, 
which can easily be passed over by a rail-road. From Na- 



NICHOLAS. 175 



poleon's capacious harbors on the Mediterranean, the dis- 
tance is some two thousand five hundred miles less than 
from London. The plan of Napoleon, in its grandeur, 
was worthy of the mmd which conceived it. The distance 
from England to India, by the Cape of Good Hope, is four- 
teen thousand miles. 

Napoleon had more particularly in view the route through 
Egypt and the Red Sea. By this line of communication, 
Bombay is but four thousand five hundred miles from Mar- 
seilles. From Cairo on the Nile to Suez on the Red Sea, 
the distance is but seventy miles. The remains of an an- 
cient canal connecting these waters can now be distinctly 
traced. The French engineers under Napoleon estimated 
the expense of opening this canal for ship navigation to be 
but three millions of dollars. Had Napoleon succeeded in 
his plans, he would have opened an unobstructed highway 
from France to India, of less than one third the distance 
now traversed from England. Even now, by the Mediter- 
ranean route, travelers pass from London to Bombay in 
about thnty days, while the passage by the way of the 
Cape of Good Hope consumes from four to six months. 

The importance of these Indian possessions to England 
may be inferred from the fact that the territory she has 
wrested from the native princes is so enormous as to brmg 
a population of over one hundred millions of subjects under 
her sway. India now consumes English products to the 
amount of twenty-five millions of dollars annually, and the 
sum is so rapidly increasing that it is confidently expected 
that it will soon reach five hundred millions. The revenue 
drawn from that country is estimated by English states- 
men as high as from fifty millions to one hundred millions 



176 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



of dollars annually. Such is the prize which Napoleon en- 
deavored to wrest from the hands of his foes. Such is the 
prize toward which Nicholas is looking with a wistful eye, 
and toward the attainment of which he is every year making 
resistless progress. The armies of Russia are now steadily 
crowding down, to encounter, upon the plains of Central 
Asia, in fearful conflict, the veteran troops of Victoria. In 
truth, Russia and England have met in Asia as two high- 
way robbers, fighting for the ])lunder of the helpless ; and 
now and then a shriek is extorted from their victims so 
piercing, of such fearful horror, that it makes the ear of 
Christendom to tingle. England recently rained down a 
tempest of grape-shot upon the Afghans, and robbed them 
of their country. The cool apology she made for the crime 
was, that if she had not robbed them of their country, Nich- 
olas would have done so. This is perfectly in keeping with 
that piratical expedition to Copenhagen, from the infamy of 
which the British government never can escape. "Would 
that our own hands were clean in respect to national ag- 
gression. Our own house is of glass, and it is dangerous for 
us to throw stones. 

The deep solicitude felt by the cabmet of St. James, in 
reference to the encroachment of Russia, may be inferred 
from the following extract from the Quarterly Review : 
" The possession of the Dardanelles would give to Russia 
the means of creating and organizing an almost unlimited 
marine. It would enable her to prepare, in the Black Sea, 
an armament of any extent, without its being possible for 
any power in Europe to interrupt her proceedings, or even 
to watch or discover her designs. Our naval oflicers of the 
highest authority have declared that an effective blockade 



NICHOLAS. 177 



of the Dardanelles can not be maintained throughout the 
year. Even supposing, therefore, that we could maintain 
permanently in those seas a fleet capable of encountering 
that of Russia, it is obvious that, in the event of a war, it 
would be in the power of Russia to throw the whole weight 
of her disposable forces on any point in the Mediterranean, 
without any probability of our being able to prevent it ; and 
that the power of thus issuing forth, with an overwhelming 
force, at any moment, would enable her to command the 
Mediterranean Sea for a limited time whenever it might 
please her so to do. Her whole southern empire would be 
defended by a single impregnable fortress. The road to 
India would then be open to her, with all Asia at her back. 
The finest materials in the world for an army destined to 
serve in the East would be at her disposal. Our power to 
overawe her in Europe would be gone ; and by even a dem- 
onstration against India, she could augment our national 
expenditure by many millions annually, and render the 
government of that country difficult beyond all calculation." 
Such is the view which England takes of the portentous 
aspect of the subject we are now contemplating. The plan 
which Russia has adopted for the accomplishment of this 
project is, by all the acts of diplomatic intrigue to promote 
the gradual dismemberment of the Turkish empire. It is 
said that the revolt of Mohammed Ali, by which Egypt 
and Syria, with millions of men and revenue, were, at a 
blow, cut off from the dominions of the sultan, was incited 
by the mtrigue and the gold of the great northern autocrat ; 
and the insurrection by which Greece was torn from the 
grasp of the Ottoman was fomented by the insidious wiles 
of Russia. Alexander Ypsilanti, who first raised the stand- 



178 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ard of revolt in Greece, was an olHcer in the Russian army. 
When he unfurled the banner of Grecian freedom, and raised 
the war-cry of death to the Turk, he promised the Greeks 
the support of his master the czar. 

That dreadful war which for many years bathed the hills 
and valleys of the Morea with blood, was every hour work- 
ing out the accomplishment of Russia's ambitious designs. 
A more sanguinary warfare was perhaps never waged upon 
the surface of this globe. All the elements of the most 
deadly hatred were combined in magnifying its horrors. I 
can not refrain, in this connection, from briefly alluding to 
the destruction of Scio by the Turks during the progress 
of this war. Scio was one of the largest, richest, and most 
beautiful of the islands of the Grecian Archipelago. It con- 
tained a population of about one hundred and twenty thou- 
sand inhabitants. Extensive commerce had brought to the 
island the treasures of the East and the West, and her op- 
ulent families, refined Ln nianners by European travel, and 
with minds highly cultivated, afforded the most intelligent 
and fascinating society of the East. Schools flourished 
upon the island, and richly-endowed colleges were crowded | 
with Grecian youth. The traveler, lured by the moonlight 'I 
of that gorgeous clime to an evening stroll through the 
streets of Scio, heard, from the dwellings of the wealthy 
Greeks, the tones of the piano, and the guitar touched by 
fingers skilled in all polite accomplishments. Many of those 
families were living in the enjoyment of highly-cultivated 
minds, and polished manners rendered doubly attractive by 
all the embellishments of wealth. 

The Grecian revolt extended to this island, and Sultan 
Mahmoud resolved upon signal vengeance He proclaimed 



NICHOLAS. 179 



to all the desperadoes of the Bosphorus that the inhabitants 
of Scio, male and female, with all their possessions, were to 
be entirely surrendered to the adventurers who would em- 
bark in the expedition for its destruction. Every ruffian 
of Constantinople crowded to the Turkish fleet. The fe- 
rocious, semi-savage boatmen of the Bosphorus ; the scowl- 
ing, Christian-hating wretches who in poverty and crime 
thronged the lanes and the alleys of the Moslem city, rushed 
eagerly to the squadron. Every scoundrel renegado upon 
the frontiers of Europe and of Asia, who could come with 
knife, or pistol, or club, was received with a welcome. In 
this way, a re-enforcement of about ten thousand assassins, 
the very refuse of creation, were collected ; other thousands 
followed on, in schooners, and sloops, and fishing smacks, 
swelling the number to fifteen thousand men, to join in the 
sack and the carnage. The fleet dropped down the Bos- 
phorus amid the acclamations of Constantinople, Pera, and 
Scutari, and the reverberations of the parting salute rolled 
along the shores of Europe and of Asia. 

It was a lovely afternoon in the month of April, 1822, 
when this fleet was seen on the bosom of the vEgean, ap- 
proaching Scio. It anchored in the bay, and immediately 
vomited forth upon those ill-fated shores the murderous 
hordes collected for their destruction. No pen can describe 
the horrors of the night which ensued. This brutal mob, 
frenzied with licentiousness and rage, were let loose with 
unrestrained liberty to glut their vengeance. The city was 
fired in every direction. Indiscriminate massacre ensued. 
Men, women, and children were shot down without mercy. 
Every hovise was entered, every apartment was ransack- 
ed. The cimiter and the pistol of the Turk were every 



180 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

where busy. The very heavens seemed rent with the fran- 
tic cries of the perishing. Mothers and daughters, in their 
despair, plunged into the flames of their burning dwellings ; 
and thus, for six dreadful days and nights, did the worlc 
of extermination continue, till the city and the island of 
Scio were a heap of ruins. j 

Several thousand of the youth, of both sexes, were saved 
to be sold as slaves. The young men, taken from the lit- 
erary seclusion and intellectual refinement of the college 
of Scio, were sold to the degradmg servitude of hopeless 
bondage. The young ladies, taken from the parlors of their 
opulent parents, from the accomplishments of highly-culti- 
vated life, and who had visited in the refmed circles of Lon- 
don and of Paris — who had been brouglit up as delicately, 
says an English writer, "as luxuriously, almost as intellect- 
ually, as those of the same classes among ourselves, became 
the property of the most ferocious and licentious outcasts of 
the human race." It is said that forty-one thousand were 
thus carried into slavery. For weeks and months they 
were sold through all the marts of the Ottoman empire. 
English travelers often met in the slave shambles ladies to 
whom they had been mtroducod in the hospitable mansions 
of their opulent parents. They had to endure the agony 
of seeing them sold to the brutal Turk. They could not 
redeem them, for the haughty followers of Mohammed would 
allow no " Christian dog" to rescue a captive. It is not ijn- 
probable that, at the present hour, there are some of the 
unfortunate survivors of these woes still living in various 
parts of the Mohammedan territory, m the lowest state of 
degradation and suffering. 

As the fleet returned to Constantinople from its satanic 



NICHOLAS. 181 



mission, the whole city was on the alert to witness the tri- 
umphant entrance. When the leading ship rounded the 
point of land which brought it mto the view of the whole 
city, many captured Greeks were seen standing on the deck, 
with ropes around their necks, and, as a gun thundered forth 
its salute, suddenly they were strung up to the bowsprit 
and every yard-arm, struggling in the agonies of death ; 
and thus, as ship after ship turned the point, the struggling 
forms of dying men swung in the breeze. These were the 
horrid ornaments and trophies of barbarian triumph. In 
view of them, the very shores of the Bosphorus seemed to 
be shaken by the explosion of artillery, and by the exulting 
shouts of the million of inhabitants who thronged the streets 
of Constantinople, Pera, and Scutari. 

These outrages, however, terminated the sway of the 
Turk over the Greek, They roused through all Europe 
a universal cry of horror and detestation. The sympathy 
of the people was so intense, that the governments of Eng- 
land and France could no longer refuse to interfere. Their 
fleets were allied with that of Russia. The Turkish navy 
was annihilated at Navarino, and Greece was free. 

The result of this conflict was just what Russia wished 
it to be. As the Emperor Nicholas looked down from his 
palaces m Moscow over the field of battle ; as he saw army 
after army of the Turks cut up, the Ottoman fleet annihi- 
lated, its revenues exhausted, and, finally, Greece itself sev- 
ered forever from the Turkish sway, he felt, and all Europe 
felt, that Russia had taken a long stride toward the posses- 
sion of the Dardanelles ; and when, by the skillful policy 
of Nicholas,"~Count Capo d'Istria, the secretary of state of 
the Russian monarch and his most intimate bosom friend, 



182 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



was made President of Greece, that nation, though nomi- 
nally independent, became, in reality, but a remote province 
of the Russian empire, more ellicient by far in the promo- 
tion of his plans of ambition than if nominally annexed to 
the territory of the autocrat. 

The mouth of the Danube, as it opens into the Black 
Sea, has been for many years the boundary between Rus- 
sia and Turkey. This river is the largest, the longest, and 
the most important in Europe. It is the Mississippi of the 
Old World. Its liood, gathered from innumerable tribu- 
taries, flows through the most fertile regions of the Euro- 
pean continent, a distance of sixteen hundred miles, before 
its accumulated waters are emptied into the Euxine. The 
dominion of steam, which has extended to the Euphrates, 
the Indus, and the Ganges, has opened to Europe, through 
the navigation of this majestic stream, new worlds of com- 
mercial enterprise. And as the eyes of every European 
power are suddenly opened to the newly-developed political 
and commercial resources presented by the navigation of 
this stream, to their surprise, and not a little to their con- 
sternation, they behold that the Emperor Nicholas has an- 
ticipated them all, and is quietly seated at the entrance of 
the Danube, in the secure possession of all its mouths. It 
appears that Nicholas, with that sagacity which has filled 
Europe with his renown, has entered into a secret treaty 
with Turkey, by which Sultan Mahmoud cedes to him a 
strip of land six miles in breadth oiT the southern shore of 
the mouth of the Danube. Nicholas was already in pos- 
session of the northern shore. Here, in the gloom of the 
black forests of the Euxine, far away from observation, and 
where the blows of his hammer could not disturb the ears 



NICHOLAS. 183 



of the regal revelers of Europe, Nicholas has reared his 
frowning batteries ; and now, not a boat can ascend or de- 
scend this majestic stream without permission from the 
Emperor of all the Russias. Even Queen Victoria must 
make a suppliant courtesy, and Louis Philippe, cap in 
hand, must say, " With your leave, sir," before they can 
pass the bristUng castles of the autocrat. In political fore- 
sight and sleepless mental activity, Nicholas is another Na- 
poleon, only without that peculiar vein of romance which 
has given such an indescribable fascination to the charac- 
ter of the Great Emperor. 

It is but a few years ago that the armies of the emperor 
were in full march for Constantinople. They rushed like 
an inundation through the passes of the Balkan. The 
jcrescent waned at the approaches of the cross. Fortress 
jaffcer fortress was battered down by their artillery ; army 
'after army was cut up by the resistless invaders ; city aft- 
er city was taken by sack and siege. The troops of Nich- 
;olas had arrived at Adrianople, and the city was in their 
Ipossession. In three days more the shower of bomb-shells 
and cannon-balls would have been showering down upon 
.the dome of St. Sophia, and tearing their destructive way 
Ithrough the halls of the Seraglio. Old Mahmoud rose from 
ithe lap of his wives perfectly bewildered with astonishment 
and consternation. He ordered every Mussulman between 
ithe ages of fifteen and sixty to rush to arms, and rally 
around the banner of the Prophet. 

England was startled, and began to grasp arms and 
weigh anchors to prop up the faUmg empire of the Turk. 
Louis Phdippe sped his couriers to St. Petersburg with ex- 
postulation and remonstrance. Europe was on the eve of 



184 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



another series of desolating wars. The imperious conquer- 
or obligingly informed the sultan that, if he would pay him 
for the trouble and expense he had mcurred in burning 
down the Turkish cities and cutting up the Turkish ar- 
mies, and that, if he would cede to him certain provinces 
and grant him certain privileges, he would deny himself 
the pleasure of visiting Constantinople. Mahmoud, as, he 
listened to the tramp of the approaching squadrons and 
the rumbling of their artillery wheels, felt that there was 
no time for hesitation. He acceded to the demand, and 
handed over the money. Nicholas loaded his baggage-wag- 
ons with the treasure, and courteously withdrew with his 
conquering armies across the Danube. 

Notwithstanding all the efforts of England and France 
to prevent it, Nicholas has succeeded in forming a treaty 
of defensive alliance with Turkey. By a secret article in 
this treaty, which has but recently come to light, Tvirkey 
agrees, in the event of Nicholas being involved in war with 
any other nation, not to allow any ship-of-war of that na- 
tion to pass the Dardanelles on any pretext whatever. 
"When England and France were made acquainted with 
this secret and alarming agreement, their consternation 
was great. Immediately the embassadors of both these 
powers entered their remonstrances, notifying Nicholas that 
their governments would act as if the treaty had never 
taken place ; to which notes Nicholas replied, Russia will 
act as if these notes never had been written. And thus 
the affair now rests. The Dardanelles are virtually in the 
hands of Russia ; and though the flag of Nicholas does 
not yet float from their turrets, they stand, in their gloomy 
strength, scowling defiance upon every Russian foe, sup- | 



NICHOLAS. 185 



ported by the armies of the sultan, the sworn defenders of 
Nicholas. The next movement will be to throw into them 
a few Russian soldiers, and then to cut down the already 
tottering crescent and unfurl the banner of the czar. When 
that hour of long-sought triumph shall come, an exult- 
ing shout will ascend from all the Muscovite millions, and 
Niijholas may bid defiance to the world. 

Such is the onward progress of this despotic monarchy 
toward political and commercial ascendency in the Eastern 
hemisphere. It was one of the striking predictions of Na- 
poleon on the rock of St. Helena, that within half a century 
Europe would become either republican or Russian. 

Now, what are the elements to be combined in arresting 
the march of this majestic power ? How do the other na- 
tions of Europe stand affected by the conquests of Nicholas ? 
Prussia has one of the most formidable armies of Europe. 
The late emperor, Frederic, who died not long ago, was an 
influential king. Nicholas married his exceedingly beauti- 
ful daughter. William, the present king, is brother to the 
wife of Nicholas, and will probably be slow to unite in any 
endeavors to sully the renown of a brother-in-law, of whose 
greatness and glory he is justly proud. Nicholas and Will- 
iam are thus allied by the tenderest ties of relationship ; 
and, in the event of war, the court and camp of St. Peters- 
burg and Berlin will probably be united. Other causes of 
war may arise which shall be stronger than, the weak ties 
of relationship ; but Prussia will be slow in moving her ar- 
mies to arrest the Asiatic progress of Nicholas. 

Austria is greatly perplexed to know whether her inter- 
ests will be promoted by aiding or retarding the conquests 
of Nicholas. The throne of the Austrian monarch is found- 

Q2 



186 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ed on utter despotism. The spread of liberal opinions from 
England and France causes that throne to tremble. Aus- 
tria, therefore, on that account, strongly desires the expan- 
sion through Europe of the despotic principles of the Rus- 
sian government. But, on the other hand, the possession 
of the Dardanelles and Constantinople by Russia would be 
regarded by the court of Vienna as seriously disturbing the 
balance of power in Europe, and as contributing most ap- 
palling strength to a rival monarchy. Thus hesitatmg, 
Ferdinand of Austria remains an anxious but inactive ob- 
server of the passing drama. 

The statesmen of England and France, with intense so- 
licitude, watch the portentous increase of this gigantic power, 
and know not how to arrest its career. They see Nicholas 
year after year annexing new nations to his territory — the 
half of Sweden at one time, nearly the whole of Poland at 
another. Circassia he has grasped with an iron clutch ; 
and now quietly, and at his leisure, he is transferring prov- 
ince after province of Turkey to his boundless realms. And 
all that these sovereigns can do is to remonstrate through 
their embassadors, and wage a wordy warfare in pamph- 
lets and reviews. All agree that the only thing which can 
arrest the progress of Nicholas is to prevent him from taking 
permanent possession of the Dardanelles. But how is this 
to be accomplished ? One plan is, to bind together the dis- 
cordant and crumbling elements of the Ottoman empire — 
to infuse new life and vigor into the government of the sul- 
tan. It is proposed thus to give to Turkey sufficient po- 
litical and military strength to resist the encroachments of 
Nicholas. A single glance, however, at the present state 
of Turkey, must show the hopelessness of this endeavor. 



NICHOLAS. 187 



Indeed, nothing is more surprising than the lingering ad- 
hesion of its crumbling and perishing materials. The em- 
pire of the sultan exhibits in all its parts every symptom of 
imbecility and decay. 

The star of the Moslem has long since passed its zenith, 
and is now rapidly descending. Greece has effectually and 
forever broken from the thraldom of the Turk. The Bar- 
bary States are no longer in subjection to the sultan. 
Egypt and Syria, under Mohammed Ali, have revolted, 
cutting off at a blow millions of men and of revenue ; and 
large and populous provinces on the shores of the Black 
Sea have passed from the sovereignty of the Turk to the 
protectorship of Russia. A few years ago, Sultan Mah- 
moud, aided by the gold of England, made a desperate en- 
deavor to regain the lost provinces of Syria and Egypt. 
But it was Turkey's last and dying struggle. Mohammed 
Ali routed his legions, and swept the whole fleet of Mah- 
moud triumphantly into his own harbors ; and though sub- 
sequently England compelled the restitution of the fleet, 
and the return of some revolted provinces, yet it is evident 
to every eye that Turkey is crumbling to pieces in every 
direction. Once the terror of Europe, she now exists but 
by sufferance. The intelligent traveler, in that mysterious 
land of strange manners and of stranger men, finds the 
crescent every where on the wane. The time-worn turrets 
of Ottoman power are tottling from their base. The spirit 
of destruction is spreading rapidly along the shores of the 
Levant. 

The lazy Turk, lounging in his harem, stupefied with 
tobacco and opium, knowing no joys but those of a mere 
animal existence, with a religion whose doctrines deaden 



KINGS AND QUEENS. 



the intellect and paralyze the energies, can never keep pace 
with the nations of Christendom. " A Turk's fingers," says 
a quaint writer, " seem all to be thumbs." 

Much has recently been said about the reform which is 
pervading the Ottoman empire ; and it is true that the 
late Sultan Mahmoud, who died a few years ago, leaving 
his throne to his son, a mere boy, put on a frock-coat, and 
drank Champagne, and dressed the ladies of his harem in 
the latest fashions of the Palais Royal and the Tuilleries. 
But no new motive of action has been called into being ; no 
dormant energies have been awakened. The Turk still 
dozes upon his divan, sipping his coffee and smoking his 
pipe ; and as fortresses and provinces of his country fall into 
the hands of the Russians, he exclaims. Mash Allah I God 
is Great I and quietly relights his pipe. The cross will 
soon supplant the crescent on the dome of St. Sophia. 

Another plan strenuously urged by the English journal- 
ists is the last resort of desperation. They assert the pres- 
ent moment to be a crisis of awful import to every nation 
on the globe, and declare that, unless something is done 
speedily and effectually, Russia must soon become the un- 
disputed mistress of the world. They urge that all the 
power of the British navy be immediately assembled ; that 
it force its way through the Hellespont and the Bosphorus 
into the Black Sea, utterly annihilate the Russian fleet, 
plough up the very foundations of Sevastopol, and burn 
every dock-yard of the emperor. 

But to this it is replied. Will not the civilized world, and, 
indeed, the English nation, cry out against so wanton an 
outrage ? Will they not ask, Wliat right has England thus 
to wage war against a nation which studiously avoids every 



NICHOLAS. 189 



act of provocation, or even discourtesy toward her ? And 
again it is said, it is not the pleasant amusement of a sum- 
mer's day even for the British navy to destroy a well-built 
and well-armed Russian fleet, manned with thirty thou- 
sand seamen, having been for many years exercised in nau- 
tical discipline and warfare. The result of such a conflict 
would be, to say the least, extremely doubtful. 

And then Sevastopol, around whose fortifications for 
many years more than twelve thousand men have been 
constantly employed to render the port impregnable, is not 
to be battered down by a few broadsides from an English 
frigate. The hostile navy, be it ever so large, which floats 
within the range of the guns of that fortress, must have an 
uncomfortable position. And, in fine, as Russia has already 
virtual possession of the Dardanelles, probably at the very 
first demonstration of war the banks of the Hellespont, 
from the Mediterranean to the Marmora, would be brist- 
ling with Russian cannon and thronged with Russian 
troops, and the whole British navy would be blovra out of 
the water before it had forced its way a dozen miles in the 
passage of the strait. 

The police of Russian despotism is mdeed Argus-eyed. 
No stranger can enter Russia without being thoroughly 
known, and having all of his movements carefully watched 
by the officers of government. Mr. Maxwell, in his very 
interesting account of his travels through the empire of 
Nicholas, makes the following statements in reference to 
the surveillance of the police : 

" In all probability, there never was a foreigner in the 
last hundred years who entered Russia in a time of peace, 
whose name and movements were not perfectly well known 



190 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



to the police. An American gentleman, traveling for pleas- 
ure, visited St. Petersburg in 1820, and in 1843 went there 
again on business. The day after his arrival for the sec- 
ond time, he went to the Alien Office, and, as usual, was 
questioned as to his name and occupation, and, upon giving 
his reply, was surprised to hear the officer remind him that 
he had been in Russia twenty-three years before as a trav- 
eler. 

"Such are the events attending the arrival of the stran- 
ger in this country ; those connected with his departure 
may as well be mentioned here. Every foreigner, who is 
not a Russian subject, wishing to leave St. Petersburg, is 
obliged to publish his intention of so doing in three consec- 
utive numbers of the Gazette of the Academy, a process 
that occupies a week or ten days, and the avowed object 
of which is to guard the interests of creditors. This rule 
is certainly a good one, as far as it protects tradesmen from 
the frauds of those birds of passage who fly from one land 
to another, and prey upon the confidence of shop-keepers. 
After advertising, the person thus intending to leave must 
address a petition to the governor of the city, which peti- 
tion, after passing through several departments, reaches 
the bureau of the chief police, and the required passport is 
granted to the petitioner. If the person applying for the 
passport is a Russian subject, several weeks, if not months 
and years, are occupied in forcing the application through 
the various departments, and even then, the necessary per- 
mission can not be obtained without the aid of large sums 
of money. Four and five hundred roubles are frequently 
expended before the all-important document is received. 

" By a ukase promulgated in 1842, these difficulties were 
greatly increased : every nobleman going beyond the bounds 



NICHOLAS. 191 



of the empire for purposes not connected with the pursuit 
of trade, was only allowed to depart for a certain specified 
time, not exceeding five years, upon presenting a donation 
of several hundred roubles to the treasury of the Foundling 
Hospital. The merchant is limited to three years. Those 
who wished to travel upon the plea of health, were bound 
to submit themselves to the inspection of physicians and 
surgeons in the pay of the government, who were to speci- 
fy the nature of their diseases and complaints, and to cer- 
tify to the necessity of travel for the bodily welfare of the 
patient. Officers of the army, going abroad at their own 
request, were compelled to resign one half their annual 
pay to the treasury of the regiment to which they belong. 
Every Russian subject must instantly return at the cita- 
tion of the police ; for the infringement of this rule, his prop- 
erty is confiscated, and his person liable to exile. The 
luggage of all persons leaving the empire must be submit- 
ted to the inspection of the officers of the customs. 

"These are some of the formalities attending a departure 
from the country. Every individual in the empire, wheth- 
er a noble or a serf, a native or a foreigner, must have a 
passport, which is regularly registered at certain specified 
times. Within every district, the name of each inhabitant 
is recorded by the proper officers in the books kept for this 
purpose, and any one who neglects to appear at the ap- 
pointed time, to renew his application for a new registry 
and a new pass, is sure to be subjected to a heavy fine, and 
all the annoyances that an ingenious and exacting officer 
can impose. If the servant has omitted this duty, both 
servant and master are liable, the laiter being considered 
an accomplice of the former. There is no escape from the 
payment of these penalties ; and instances are known of 



19-2 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



fines being levied in trivial cases that had occurred many- 
years before, and been forgotten by all except the magis- 
trate. The fees exacted for the giving and signing of pass- 
ports and other papers of this description are enormous in 
amount, and a source of considerable revenue to the offi- ' 
cers of the police." 

The following is the amusing account of the recent rev- 
olution in France, given in the Russian papers, published , 
in Warsaw under the sanction of the censors of the press. ' 
Nicholas is not willing that his slaves should know the 
struggles of other slaves to attain their emancipation. 

" At Paris there M^as a riot, which was promptly put 
down. His majesty, Louis Philippe, is seriously indis- 
posed, and, by the advice of his physicians, he has resolved 
to abstain for some time from the affairs of government, 
and has gone to take the sea-baths at Brighton. On the 
king's departure there was a slight commotion, which was 
repressed, and which resulted in the retreat of M. Guizot. 
During his absence the king has confided the direction of 
aflairs to Count Mole." 

In this brief slcetch, but feeble justice can be done to a 
subject so momentous and so extensive in its bearings as 
the rising power of Nicholas. What has been written, 
however, may give the reader a general idea of the ques- 
tion which has long agitated Europe ; it may guide the 
mind to future topics of investigation ; and, above all, I 
hope that in every American heart it will excite emotions 
of gratitude in the reflection of our far remove from the 
desolations of invading armies, and from tlie ambition of 
kings and courts. The character of Nicholas may proba- 
bly be summed up in one line : He is as good a man as 
an energetic despot can afford to be. 



LEOPOLD. 



1 




i'|ilil:i!ll!,ii lilii;iii'-:i:^^ 



T 



Leopold. 
1 



HE last years of the rational life of George III. were 
greatly embittered by domestic dissensions. His eldest son, 
the heir-apparent to the throne, subsequently George IV., 
was an unceasing source of mortification and anguish to 
his virtuous and venerable father. Care and disappoint- 
ment, and perhaps an hereditary tendency to insanity, at 
last deprived the conscientious and worthy old king of the 
light of reason. Total blindness also accompanied this dread- 
ful calamity. The last ten years of the life of this monarch 
of the most powerful empire upon which the sun has ever 
shone, were passed in midnight darkness and bewildering 
dreams. And yet a kind Providence, m its provision of 
compensation, made those ten years of blindness and delu- 
sion probably the happiest the king had known upon earth. 
The placid old monarch, unburdened of every care, groped 
around the walls of his chamber, cheered by the fancy that 
he was in Heaven. He occasionally spoke of scenes which 
had transpired upon earth, and of friends he had known and 
loved when below. After passing the frontier of fourscore 
years, he awoke from his long dream, we trust, in the man- 
sions of the blessed. 

George, the Prince of Wales, was called the handsomest 
man and the most accomplished gentleman there was in 
Europe. He was exposed to temptations which few would 
have the strength to resist, and before which he irretriev- 

R 2 197 



198 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

ably fell. His heart, naturally generous and affectionate, 
became as depraved as his manners were polished and re- 
fined. He headed the opposition to his father's government, 
and was hardly on speaking terms with many members of the 
royal family. By the unblushing profligacy of his life, he 
wounded the virtuous pride of his parents, and alienated 
the already waning affections of the people, who, incited by 
republican freedom in America, and by the Revolution in 
France, were threatening the overthrow of the English 
throne. His early education had been carefully promoted. 
He conversed in several languages with fluency, and had 
cultivated nuich refinement of taste in the fine arts. Says 
Croly : " He never appeared before his people disfigured with 
the German barbarism of a pipe m his mouth, nor with the 
human face divine metamorphosed into the bear's or the 
baboon's. He was an English gentleman ; and, conscious 
that the character placed him above the grossness of foreign 
indulgences, or the theatric fopperies of foreign costumes, 
he adhered to the manners of his country." By every sper 
cies of extravagance and dissipation, he had become inex- 
tricably involved in debt. Clamorous creditors crowded 
around him, and from all quarters he was assailed by un- 
intermitted reproaclies. The king hoped that a reputable 
marriage might arrest his excesses ; and the nation, anxious 
to avoid the dangers of a disputed succession to the throne, 
loudly demanded that the prince should form a suitable al- 
liance. The debt of George, according to the statement 
laid upon the table of the House of Comznons, amounted to 
the almost incredible sum of about three million two hund- 
red thousand dollars. The nation was called upon by the 
friends of the prince to pay this debt, as it was not consist- 



LEOPOLD. 199 

ent with the dignity of the realm that the heir-apparent 
to the throne should be rolling about the streets as an in- 
solvent debtor. 

Neither the king nor the Parliament were disposed to aid 
George in his embarrassments, unless he would consent to 
marry. He, however, considering a wife a very serious en- 
cumbrance to him in his pursuit of lawless pleasure, flatly 
refused, declaring that he would not give up his free, un- 
housed condition for any woman upon earth. With the 
princely revelers whom he had gathered around him, he 
made great sport of " royal matrimony ;" George was, how- 
ever, unfortunately, already married, privately, to Mrs. Fitz- 
herbert, a very worthy lady, but a Roman Catholic. The 
marriage ceremony with this lady, performed in secret, ac- 
cording to the rites of the Romish Church, George affected 
to regard as merely a farce, while with Mrs. Fitzherbert 
they possessed all the sacredness of the most virtuous con- 
nection. To soothe the scruples of this injured woman, he 
ever assumed with her the attitude of an honorable and 
unquestioned nuptial alliance. But, to her utter astonish- 
ment and her deep indignation, he at this time unequivocally 
denied, through his friends in Parliament, that he was mar- 
ried. By the laws of England, the marriage of the heir- 
apparent to a Roman Catholic defeated his claim to the 
throne. 

Every day, however, the prince was becoming more and 
more deeply entangled in meshes from which he could not 
escape. His creditors became increasingly importunate. It 
was quite impossible for him either to defray the expenses 
of the past, or to raise money to meet the claims which were 
pressing upon him for each passing day. At length, his 



200 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

situation became so intolerable, that he consented to brave • 
the virtuous indignation of one wife, who was thus repudi- 
ated and dishonored, and to ally himself with a consort of ; 
royal blood. It was a bitter pill for George to take. He 
mainly dreaded the restraint which might thus be imposed 
upon him. 

George III. had a sister in Germany to whom he was 
very much attached, the Duchess of Brunswick. She had 
a daughter Caroline. This jirincess was selected as the 
victim. The prince, sullenly driven into the arrangement, 
submitted with as much jiliilosophy of indifference as he 
could command, and cared but little who the person was 
who was inflicted upon him as his bride. He is said to 
have declared that he would treat her with the most form- 
al and chilling reserve, and would have only so much con- 
nection with her as seemed to be absolutely necessary. 
He redeemed his promise to the letter. 

The following communication from Caroline to a friend, 
just before she left her home in Germany for her melan- 
choly nuptials, .shows the feelings with which she entered 
upon the union : .i 

" You are aware of luy destiny. I am to be married to 
my cousin, the Prince of Wales. I esteem him for his 
generosity, and his letters bespeak a cultivated mind. My : 
uncle is a good man, and I love him much ; but I feel that 
I never shall be liappy. Estranged from my connections, 
iriends, and all I hold dear, I am about to make a perma- 
nent connection. I fear for the consequences. Yet I es- 
teem and respect my future husband, and I hope for great 
kindness and attention. But alas I I say sometimes I can 
not now love him with ardor. I am indifferent to my mar- 



LEOl'OLD. 201 

riage, but not averse to it. But I fear my joy will not be 
enthusiastic. J am debarred from possessing the man of 
my choice, and I resign myself to my destiny. I am at- 
tentively studying the English language. I am acquaint- 
ed with it, but I wish to speak it with fluency. I shall try 
to make my husband happy, and to interest him m my l"a- 
vor, since the fates will have it that I am to be Princess of 
Wales." 

On the 8th of April, 1795, the marriage ceremony took 
place at the palace of 8t. James, the princess having spent 
three months of a very severe winter in her journey to Lon- 
don. Caroline was then twenty-four years of age, and 
George thirty-three. The nuptials were celebrated with all 
the splendors of royalty. The bride, glittering with jewels, 
and with a coronet upon her brow, was attended by four of 
the daughters of the highest nobility as her bridemaids. 
The prince, in the most brilliant decorations of his rank, 
was attended by two unmarried dukes. All the external 
manifestations of wealth, magnificence, and festivity accom- 
panied this untoward wedding ; but m those gorgeous sa- 
loons, and beneath those costly robes, cold and heavy hearts 
were throbbing. The marriage ring was but a fetter of 
gold, which bound uncongenial and repellant spirits. The 
jewels for the bridal dress were purchased at an expense of 
three hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Carlton House 
was furnished for the reception of the royal pair with the 
greatest possible magnificence. The furniture for the draw- 
ing-room alone of the princess amounted to the sum of one 
hundred thousand dollars. George presented his bride with 
a cap of extraordinary costliness and beauty, on which tiiere 
was a plume in imitation of his highness's crest, studded 



m KINGS AND QUEENS. 



with brilliants, which played backward and forward in the 
same manner as feathers, with very beautiful effect. This 
cap is still preserved at a banker's in Pall Mall, carefully 
locked up as a rare curiosity. The nation paid the enor- 
mous debts of the profligate prince, granted him an annual 
income of about six hundred and ninety thousand dollars, 
and settled upon the princess a jointure of two hundred 
thousand dollars a year. This was marriage in the palace. 
A wedding more resplendent with magnificence and more 
fraught with woe earth has seldom witnessed. 

For three months Parliament was engaged in discussing 
questions relative to the marriage settlement. The char- 
acter and habits of the prince were descanted upon with 
great severity ; and Caroline, unaccustomed to such free- 
dom of inquiry into the conduct of courts, was agitated by 
alternating emotions of depression and indignation. She 
was excessively mortified and annoyed by the undisguised 
exposure of the defects of her husband, and declared that 
she would rather live on bread and water in a cottage, than 
have the character and conduct of the royal family, and es- 
pecially of her husband, thus severely investigated. 

The personal appearance of Caroline at this time is thus 
described: "The betrothed consort of the Prince of Wales 
is of a middling stature, and remarkably elegant in her per- 
son. Her appearance at court is majestic, but accompanied 
with a sweetness and affability of manners which rivet the 
admiration of all who behold her. Her eyes are intelligent, 
her countenance highly animated, and her teeth white and 
regular. Her hair, of which she has an amazing quantity, 
is of a light auburn color, and appears always dressed in a 
simple but elegant style. Her taste, in every part of dress, 



LEOPOLD. -J 03 

-is equally graceful, so that there is no doubt but that she 
will be the standard of fashionable dress and elegance." 

And now the heir-apparent to the throne of England was 
i established with two wives and two families. The union 
with Mrs. Fitzherbert, though unquestionably a legal mar- 
riage, was not publicly recognized, though universally 
known ; and George had the meanness and the perfidy to 
deny that this deeply-wronged lady was his wife. It is not 
dKHcult to imagine that such a state of things must have 
given rise to intense heart-burnings and bitter strife. Ir- 
reconcilable dissensions immediately sprang up between 
(ieorge and his exasperated spouse. Caroline was impet- 
uous in her temper, and exceedingly indignant at the un- 
anticipated indignities she had encountered. 

In less than a year after the marriage, on the 7th of Jan- 
uary, 1796, the Princess Charlotte was born. Her birth 
was received with national exultation, for she was to in- 
herit the crown which soon was to fall upon her father's 
brow. It was to secure this succession that the nation had 
been so anxious for the marriage of the prince. Immedi- 
ately after the birth of Charlotte, George, who had previ- 
ously treated the Princess Caroline with the most cutting 
and cruel neglect, abandoned her entirely, declaring that 
he could not conquer the repugnance with which he re- 
garded her. Caroline, with a temper naturally not the 
most amiable, gave vent to her exasperated feelings in the 
most severe and sarcastic remarks. She manifested no dis- 
position to conceal her wrongs, but openly and indignantly, 
on all occasions, gave utterance to her overflowing heart. 
The bitter quarrel at Carlton House soon became the topic 
of conversation in every dwelling in the realm. The king. 



'.204 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



George III., and the royal family generally, and the nation 
at large, espoused the cause of Caroline. George, to shield 
himself from the storm of reproach which was falling upon 
him, did all in his power to calumniate the character and 
cast infamy on the mother of his child. The prmce soon 
proposed an entire separation. The princess assented to the 
proposal with the condition that the separation should be per- 
petval. The following correspondence will show the temper 
in which they parted. 

" Gcorg'c to Caroline. 

" Madainf, — As Lord Cholmondeley informs me that you 
wish that I should define in writing the terms upon which 
we are to live, I shall endeavor to explain myself upon that 
head with as mucli clearness and with as much propriety 
as the nature of the subject will admit. Our inclinations 
are not in our power ; nor should either of us be held an- 
swerable to the other, because Nature has not made us suit- 
able to each other. Tranquil and comfortable society is, 
however, in our power. Let our intercourse, therefore, be 
restricted to that, and I will distinctly subscribe to the con- 
dition which you required through Lady Cholmondeley, 
that, even in the event of any accident happening to my 
daughter, which I trust Providence in its mercy will avert, 
I sliall not infringe the terms of restriction by proposing a 
connection of a more particular nature. I shall now finally 
close this disagreeable correspondence, trusting that, as we 
have completely explained ourselves to each other, the rest 
of our lives may be passed in undisturbed tranquillity. 

"I am, madam, with great trvTth, very sincerely yours, 

" George R. 

'• Windsor Castle. Ai)ril 30t]i, 1796." 



LEOPOLD. 205 



To this communication Caroline returned the following 
reply : 

" Sir, — The avowal of your conversation with Lord Chol- 
mondeley neither surprises nor offends me. It merely con- 
firms what you have tacitly insinuated for this twelve- 
month. But, after this, it would be a want of delicacy, or, 
rather, an unworthy meanness in me, were I to complain 
of those conditions which you impose upon yourself. I 
should have returned no answer to your letter if it had not 
been conceived in terms to make it doubtful whether this 
arrangement proceeds from you or me. You are aware 
that the honor of it belongs to you alone. The letter which 
you announce to me as the last, obliges me to communicate 
to the king, as to my sovereign and my father, both your 
avowal and my answer. You will find inclosed a copy of 
my letter to the king. I apprise you of it, that I may not 
incur the slightest reproach of duplicity from you. As I 
have, at this moment, no protector but his majesty, I refer 
myself solely to him upon this subject, and if my conduct 
meet his approbation, I shall be, in some degree at least, 
consoled. I retain every sentiment of gratitude for the situ- 
ation in which I find myself as Princess of Wales, enabled, 
by your means, to indulge in the free exercise of a virtue 
dear to my heart — charity. It will be my duty, likewise, 
to act upon another motive, that of giving an example of 
patience and resignation under every trial. 

" Do me the justice to believe that I shall never cease to 
pray for your happiness, and to be your raiuch devoted 

" Caroline. 

"May 6th, 1796." 

For ten years Caroline now dwelt in seclusion, entirely 

S 



206 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



abandoned by her husband, and, though guilty of many 
improprieties, enjoying the sympathy of the whole nation. 
She devoted her time to the education of her daughter, 
who was her constant companion, and who, with increas- 
ing years, warmly espoused her mother's cause. George, 
devoted to his schemes of pleasure and ambition, could not 
be entirely deaf to the murmurs of reproach which filled 
the kingdom, or totally regardless of the lovely child to 
whom he was to transmit the crown of empire. He there- 
fore endeavored to tear Charlotte from the care of her moth- 
er, and by the most atrocious accusations to consign the 
name of Caroline to infamy. The king — for these events 
occurred before the period of his insanity, and were prob- 
ably among the exciting causes which led to the overthrow 
of his reason — with great zeal and firmness, advocated the 
cause of the mjured and insulted princess. A committee 
was appointed, consisting of Lords Erskine, Grenville, 
Spencer, and Ellenborough, to investigate the heinous char- 
ges brought against Caroline, and the king himself assumed 
the guardianship of the royal child, leaving her still under 
the protection of her mother ; for, imprudent as Caroline 
had been, she was, at this time, unquestionably an mno- 
cent woman. The committee entered into a minute inves- 
tigation of all the charges brought against her by him who 
had given his solemn vows before the altar of God to be 
her protector and friend. The report of the committee ful- 
ly exculpated Caroline from crime, though objecting that 
she had not been sufficiently gTiarded in avoiding the ap- 
pearance of evil. 

In truth, however, Carolme was becoming exasperated 
almost to insanity. The indignities she had received were 



LEOPOLD. 207 

too heavy for her violent spirit meekly to endure, and, reck- 
less of consequences, she began to give vent to her feelings 
of rage and scorn in language and actions of unrestrained 
rancor. Her conduct at times, when revenge and morti- 
fied pride were dominant in her bosom, seemed to verify the 
extravaganza of the poet : 

" Hell has no fury like a woman scorn'd." 

Apparently stimulated only by the passion of revenge, she 
sought to dishonor the husband who had dishonored her. 
She might have won to herself, in the meek endurance of 
wrong, the sympathy and the admiration of the world. 
She might thus have constrained her very griefs to admin- 
ister to her solace. But, unhappily, surrendering herself 
to the dominion of passion, she pursued a course which has 
left a stain upon her character which can never be effaced. 
The crushed and bleeding heart, bowing submissively be- 
fore God's chastening hand, finds welling up within itself 
fountains of consolation ; but, angrily struggling against 
our lot, we do but sink to more inextricable depths in our 
calamity. 

When the committee investigated the charges brought 
against Caroline, she was unquestionably innocent of crime. 
Her vindication was received by the whole community 
with the greatest enthusiasm. The indignation of the peo- 
ple against the prince regent for his treatment of Caroline 
was so intense, that, whenever she appeared in public, they 
surrounded her coach with the most cordial ereetincrs. 
Shortly after her acquittal she appeared at court, leaning 
upon the arm of his majesty, George the Third. The sym- 
pathy in her favor was so strong, that even in those proud 



208 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



halls, where hnperious fashion checks all manifestation of 
emotion, there was a spontaneous burst of feeling, and she 
was received by a universal clapping of hands. She had 
been so deeply wronged that every heart yearned to love 
her ; and through all commg time her melancholy story 
will never be read but with regret that the spirit's unre- 
pressed homage can not linger around her memory. The 
memory of departed excellence, especially when that excel- 
lence has been hallowed by suffering, is one of the richest 
legacies of humanity. Josephine is an ever-living joy. 

Charlotte, as the heiress of the throne of Great Britain, 
was, of course, an object of national interest. Her educa- 
tion was superintended with the utmost care. She studied 
thoroughly the Constitution and laws of her own country, 
and became intimately acquamted with the history and 
statistics of the European states. She conversed fluently 
in German, French, Italian, and Spanish ; sang witli much 
sweetness, and attained no inconsiderable proficiency upon 
the harp, the piano, and the guitar. She also sketched 
landscapes from Nature with much taste and skill. The 
use of the pencil, in this most pleasing and valuable accom- 
plishment, was one of her principal sources of enjoyment. 
All her early years, however, were embittered by the hu- 
miliating discord in tlie family. She shed many bitter tears 
in secret, and passed through scenes of sufi'ering which no 
pen can describe. All her sympathies were entwined around 
her mother ; and one stormy night, with hat and shawl, she 
fled alone from her father's surveillance, and, calling a com- 
mon hackney coach, drove in terror and tears through the 
dark streets of London to the throbbing bosom of her more 
tender and sympathetic parent. As maturer years embel- 



LEOPOLD. 209 

lished her person and her mind, she developed a character 
of unusual loveliness, and became the idol of all English 
hearts. It, of course, soon became an object of national in- 
terest and solicitude that she should form some suitable 
matrimonial connection. Few could be indiiterent to the 
question as to who should be the husband of England's fu- 
ture queen. All the courts upon the Continent were inter- 
ested in that inquiry. And the cabinet of St. James con- 
templated the momentous question with unceasing solici- 
tude. The Prince of Orange, crown-prince of the kingdom 
of the Netherlands, who had been aid-de-camp to the Duke 
of Wellington, and who had greatly signalized himself at 
the battles of Badajos, Salamanca, and Quatre Bras, was 
the prominent candidate for this honor. This prince, now 
the King of Holland, was then about twenty-five years of 
age, and had secured the esteem of the Duke of Welling- 
ton and the general applause of the English people. This 
proposed connection was consequently very popular, and the 
princess, though professing no ardent attachment, mani- 
fested no special disinclination to a connection which seemed 
to be almost universally desired. 

In the year 1810, the dreadful malady which rendered the 
king incapable of government returned, and George as- 
sumed the scepter of the empire as prince regent. 

Let us now leave Charlotte for a time, for the contem- 
plation of another theme intimately connected with her his- 
tory. In the very heart of Germany, on the Eiver Saal, 
there is a little Saxon principality called Saxe-Coburg. It 
is a Lilliputian state, about one seventh as large as Rhode 
Island, consisting of but two hundred and one square miles, 
and containing a population of but eighty-three thousand 

S2 



210 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

souls. The city of Coburg, the capital of this dukedom, 
contams about eight thousand inhabitants. In the Ger- 
manic Confederation, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg is bound to 
furnish a contingent of eight hundred men, his miniature 
army, to the general force. In the comparatively humble 
palace of the Duke of Coburg, on the 16th of December, 
1790, Leopold, the present King of Belgium, was born. All 
the thrones of Europe were then tottering over the volcano 
of revolution. Saxe-Coburg was in the very pathway of 
the rushing armies of the Continent, and the din of war was 
the sound with which the ear of Leopold was most familiar. 
Perhaps these scenes of horror aided to give a grave and 
meditative turn to the mind of this child. Naturally 
thoughtful, and of the romantic temperament, he sought 
his enjoyments in the tranquil scenes of solitude and study. 
When fifteen years of age, the troops of Napoleon, sweeping 
over Germany, approached the residence of his father. His 
older brother, as an officer in the army of Alexander of 
Russia, was retreating with his defeated troops before the 
victorious invader. The father of Leopold was sick, and 
he was compelled to flee with his wife and little son from 
liis defenseless capital, and take refuge in the strong for- 
tress of Saalfield. The French army soon appeared before 
the castle, and, after a terrible bombardment, took it by 
storm. The sick duke and his family were exposed to all 
the horrors of that awful scene. The shock was too severe 
for the nerves of the invalid. He lingered for a short time 
in pain and sorrow, affectionately tended by his wife and 
child, and then, in the midst of struggling armies, breathed 
his last. The older brother of Leopold, of course, inherited 
the dukedom. 



LEOPOLD. 211 

Leopold now entered the army as aid-de-camp of the 
Grand-duke Constantme of Russia, brother of the Emper- 
or Alexander, who had married his sister. He signalized 
himself in many fierce engagements, and accompanied the 
allied sovereigns in their triumphant march to Paris upon 
the downfall of Napoleon. Though Leopold had passed 
nearly all his days from 1806 to 1814, that is, from the 
time he was sixteen until he was twenty-four years of age, 
in the midst of the confusion and clang of arms, yet, with 
an acquired taste for literary and scientific pursuits, he 
found occasions for mental culture. He possessed a fine 
figure, an interesting countenance, and much elegance and 
suavity of address. Napoleon, who had occasionally met 
him, remarked at St. Helena that he was one of the finest- 
looking men he had ever seen. His natural disposition 
was generous and noble, and he possessed that poetic and 
romantic pensiveness which, when well regulated, gives to 
character its most resistless fascination. His favorite em- 
ployments were the study of botany, languages, and the 
fine arts. The pencil was the favorite companion of his 
rambles, with which he stored his portfolio with sketches. 
Thus, even in the turmoil of the camp, he was cultivating 
all the graces and cherishing all the tastes of domestic life, 
and preparing himself to diffuse the purest enjoyment 
around some future home of tranquillity when the hateful 
clangor of battle should be heard no more. 

It seemed as though Providence were preparing Char- 
lotte, in the retirement of Carlton, by the poignant trials 
with which her spirit was there disciplined, and Leopold, 
amid the horrors of the sack of Saalfield and the carnage 
of fields of blood, to be united in the most harmonious union 



*12 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

which earth can know, and to appreciate, as few are oa- 
pable of appreciating, the bliss of conjugal affections, and 
of an intellectual and happy home. 

Though Leopold was of one of the most ancient families 
in Europe, and could trace his descent through many gen- 
eiations of noble names, he was far from being wealthy. It 
was, therefore, necessary for him, in the attempt to main- 
tain even a respectable appearance in the midst of the glit- 
tering throng of associated kings and princes, to husband 
his limited income with the utmost economy. The allied 
sovereigns were reveling in all imaginable luxury and ex- 
travagance in Paris, and that humbled metropolis was glit- 
tering with the accumulated splendors of all the courts and 
capitals of Europe. Gorgeous banners were floating like 
autumn leaves in the air. Paris and its environs were 
thronged with almost countless thousands of the most high- 
ly-disciplined and most brilliantly-accoutred troops in the 
world. Martial bands, trained to almost miraculous skill, 
charmed the ear by day and night with music's most ex- 
ultant strains. Equipages of the most costly gorgeousness 
thronged the streets. Wealth, rank, pride, and power com- 
bined all their energies to give splendor to the triumph of 
combined and oft-defeated kings over the world's most 
mighty conqueror. Leopold, illustrious in rank, opulent 
in intellectual and moral endowments, but with a light 
purse, moved thoughtfully and unconspicuous in the midst 
of these scenes of princely magnificence. 

From Paris the allied monarchs of Europe were going 
to London, there to renew, in the most wealthy city on the 
globe, their exultations. The luxvirious sovereigns of the 
most powerful empires, the marshals of the Bourbons, the 



LEOPOLD. 213 

great generals of the triumphant armies rioting in their 
plundered wealth, and the highest nobility of Europe were 
squandering their fortunes in the endeavor to outshine each 
other in equipage and retinue, and even London was to be 
dazzled by the unparalleled spectacle. Leopold was one 
day bitterly lamenting that the state of his finances would 
not allow him to accompany the allied sovereigns on this 
visit. An English lord, who filled a high diplomatic situ- 
ation on the Continent, invited Leopold to accompany his 
family as a member of the household. The invitation was 
eagerly accepted, and Leopold crossed the Channel, little 
imagining the joys and the woes to which this visit was to 
introduce him. 

On the 7th of January, 1814, Charlotte arrived at the 
age of eighteen, when, according to the Constitution of 
her country, she was of lawful age to ascend the throne. 
George III. was still living, unconscious of all the scenes 
which were passing around him, and George, the father of 
Charlotte, as prince regent, held the reins of government. 
In the month of the following June the young princess 
made her first public appearance in what was then called 
the great Congress of Europe. This youthful maiden, em- 
bellished with the charms of intelligence, moral loveliness, 
and personal beauty, as the heiress of the most exalted 
throne on the globe, attracted the attention of all eyes, and 
moved through those gorgeous halls the most brilliant or- 
nament in the midst of the blaze of royalty and splendor 
with which she was surrounded. William, the Prince of 
Orange, now the King of Holland, was at her side as her 
acknowledged suitor. He handed her to her carriage on 
that day, and afterward dined with the royal family on 



214 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



the most intimate footing at Carlton House. All " on-look- 
ers" deemed that the course of true love was running 
smooth. The royal family generally, and the nation at 
large, looked with favorable eyes upon the contemplated 
match. 

Just at this time Leopold arrived in London, with a let- 
ter of introduction from the Duke of Brunswick to Char- 
lotte his niece. His pleasing manners, his graceful figure, 
and his intelligent mind, arrested the attention of the prin- 
cess, and won her esteem. Charlotte ever had regarded the 
Prince of Orange rather with feelings of indifference, and 
she soon found that the attractive stranger was enkindling 
more lively emotions in her bosom. Leopold became a fre- 
quent and )iiost welcome guest at her tea-table, and, en- 
couraged by the cordiality of his reception, he made formal 
proposals for the hand of the princess. Charlotte, though 
not absolutely affianced to the Prince of Orange, yet, em- 
barrassed by the contemplated connection, so popular with 
the nation, reluctantly declined. The young soldier, thus 
disappointed, retired to Vienna, and was seeking solace for 
his grief in cultivating the aflections of a fair Austrian, 
when Charlotte, mourning the loss of his congenial society, 
and regretting her decision, sent to him a hint that anoth- 
er application might possiblij meet with better success. 
Vienna and all it contained were immediately forgotten, 
and Leopold, as on the wings of the wind, hastened again 
to London. His reception was all that he could desire ; 
and he was immediately placed upon the most intimate 
footing with all the members of the royal family. 

" Well, Charlotte," said her uncle, the Duke of York, one 
day, accosting his niece in his usual blunt and familiar 



LEOPOLD. 215 



manner, " So the Orange goes to the wall, and the Coburg 
goes to the heart." Charlotte replied only with a hearty- 
laugh. Leopold was under the necessity of practicing great 
economy, and the princess, admiring his conduct in this re- 
spect, spoke of it m high tones of commendation. " He is 
so poor, your royal highness I" objected one of her ladies in 
waiting on one occasion ; " why, all his dommions will be 
hardly larger than a country parish." " So much the better, 
my lady," the princess replied ; "he will have more time to 
attend to me." 

The rupture of the connection with the wealthy and pow- 
erful family of Orange was for a time extremely annoying 
to the nation, and young Leopold was held up to ridicule 
by the song writers, and caricaturists, and jesters all over 
the realm. The manly and honorable bearing of the noble, 
yet fortuneless prince, soon, however, won the respect, not 
only of all the members of the royal family, but also gained 
rapidly upon the prejudices of the community ; and the 
people soon received without opposition the announcement 
that he was the affianced spouse of Charlotte. Of course, 
as the destined husband of the heiress to the throne of Eng- 
land, his character became the object of diplomatic solici- 
tude and watchfulness both in England and on the Conti- 
nent. This scrutiny brought to light the high intellectual 
and moral qualities with which he was endowed ; and, ele- 
vated to so conspicuous a position, he not only attracted the 
eyes, but commanded the respect of all Europe ; for virtue 
will command the respect even of vice. Perhaps there were 
never two persons of more congenial tastes than Charlotte 
and Leopold. Both eminently intellectual, and warm-heart- 
ed, and of cheerful temperament, they each possessed that pe- 



216 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



culiar fervor of soul which manifests the luxury of affection 
and happiness in the silent tear rather than in the noisy 
laugh. It is rare for mutual affection to exist in state mar- 
riages ; but this amiable pair were in heart united by the 
very tender est ties of virtuous love. 

On the 14th of March, 1816, a message was sent by the 
prince regent to Parliament, announcing the royal assent 
to the marriage, and suggesting that Parliament should 
concur in making such provision for the establishment of 
their royal highnesses as would be suitable to the honor 
and dignity of the crown. Parliament, with the greatest 
unanimity, immediately granted three hundred thousand 
dollars for outfit, and three hundred thousand dollars an- 
nual income, including fifty thousand dollars annually for 
the private purse of the princess. A grant of two hundred 
and forty thousand dollars annually was also conferred upon 
the prince, should he survive his consort. The cordiality 
with which the connection was now contemplated by the 
people may be inferred from the remarkable fact that the 
bill making these large grants was read, debated, passed 
both houses, and received the royal sanction in one evening. 
Parliament wished also to confer upon him a British duke- 
dom. This, however, he declined, as Charlotte wished him 
to derive no rank but by his connection with her. He 
therefore retained simply the title of Prince Leopold. 

On the 2d of May, 1816, the marriage festival took place. 
It was a day of national rejoicing, for the prince had now 
become an object of popular enthusiasm. Immediately 
after the ceremony, the wedded couple retired to the coun- 
try seat of the Duke of York. They soon, however, re- 
moved to the retirement of Claremont, and took possession 



LEOPOLD. 217 

of that beautiful abode for their permanent home. Avoid- 
ing the heartless pageants of fashion and state, and in the 
purest and most simple enjoyments of domestic life and con- 
jugal love, they found their happiness. In reading, visiting 
the cottages of the poor, riding, and sketching the beautiful 
scenery with which the vicmity abounds, time glided away 
upon the swiftest wings. Their evenings were generally 
devoted to music. Probably never has a year on earth 
passed more happily than this year passed with Charlotte 
and Leopold. 

It was in a few months announced that the princess was 
soon to become a mother. With anxious expectation, the 
people awaited the birth of one upon whose brow would le- 
gitimately descend the crown of England. The hour of 
anxiety and dread arrived. The frail frame of Charlotte 
was unequal to the trial. After three days of dreadful 
suffering, she gave birth to a lifeless child, and soon passed 
into convulsions and died. This sad event occurred on the 
5th of November, 1817, when Charlotte was twenty-one 
years of age. The physician who attended her was so 
overwhelmed by the calamity that he immediately shot him- 
self. Not only England, but the whole Christian world, 
felt the shock. The death was so sudden, so unanticipated 
the hopes were so brilliant, and the blight so awful, that 
probably no death that has ever occurred upon the surface 
of this globe has produced a more widespread and profound 
grief Charlotte was universally beloved. The nation, 
mortified by the shameless profligacy of the prince regent, 
and feeling degraded by the exposure of the vices and the 
quarrels of the royal family, which were emblazoned through- 
out all Europe, looked forward with affectionate hope to the 

T 



218 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



hour when the crown, now so tarnished, should beam forth 
with new purity and luster upon the brow of Charlotte. Her 
death was regarded as a national calamity. " All public 
places were voluntarily closed ; all entertainments laid aside ; 
the churches hung with black by the people, and funeral 
sermons preached every where at their request ; the streets 
deserted ; marriages suspended ; journeys put off; the whole 
system of society stopped, as if it had received an irreparable 
blow. The English residents abroad all put on mourning ; 
and as the intelligence passed through the world, every spot 
where an Englishman was to be found witnessed the same 
evidence of the sincerest national sorrow." 

" Was it a dream ? so sudden and so dread 

That awful fiat o'er our senses came ? 
So loved, so bless'd, is that young spirit fled, 

Whose early grandeur promised years of fame 7 
Oh ! when hath life possess'd, or death destroy'd, 

More lovely hopes, more cloudlessly that smiled ? 
When hath the sjioiler left so dark a void ? 

For all is lost — the mother and her child ! 
Our morning star hath vanish'd, and the tomb 
Throws its deep, lengthen'd shade o'er years to come. 

"And she is gone — the royal and the young, 

lu soul commanding and in heai't benign ; 
Who from a race of kings and heroes sprung, 

Glow'd with a spirit lofty as her line. 
Now may the voice she loved on earth so well 

Breathe forth her name unheeded and in vain ; 
Nor can those eyes on which her own would dwell 

Wake from that breast one sympathy again ; 
The ardent heart, the towering mind are fled, 
Yet shall undying love still linger with the dead. 

" But thou — thine hour of agony is o'er, 

And thy brief race in brilliance hath been run, 
While faith, that bids fond nature grieve no more, 
Tells that thy crown— though not on earth — is won. 



LEOPOLD, 219 

Thou, of the ■world so eai'ly left, hast known 

Naught but the bloom and sunshine ; and for thee. 

Child of projjitious stars! for thee alone, 

The course of love ran smooth, and brightly free. 

Not long such bliss to mortal could be given : 

It is enough for earth to catch one glimpse of Heaven." 

Leopold was perfectly prostrated by the blow. With 
unutterable agony, he watched her convulsions as death 
crept over her frame. In paroxysms of grief, which were 
heart-rending to the spectators, he wept and prayed ; and 
when the word " dead" fell upon his heart, he seemed be- 
wildered and stupefied by the magnitude of his woe. He 
grasped the lifeless hand ; he kissed with frenzy the blood- 
less lips. With a maniacal stare he incessantly demanded 
of the physicians, "Will she not soon be better?" For 
three hours succeeding her death, his soul was thus \ATeck- 
ed with the delirium of his mental agony ; and when the 
awful truth forced itself upon his mind, he could not leave 
the remains, until, almost by violence, he was led away. 
He gathered around him all those objects which recalled 
her most vividly to his memory, and sat for hours by the 
side of her bonnet and cloak, hung by her own hands but 
three days before upon a screen in the parlor, on her return 
from their last ramble. He would allow no one to remove 
or touch an article which she had placed in its position. 
He insisted upon sitting up, during the night, to watch 
himself by the side of her precious remains. Once during 
the night he went to her coffin, trembling with agitation 
and grief, removed the coronet and cushion, and in speech- 
less agony and with gushing tears gazed upon the features, 
cnkl in death, which he had so tenderly loved ; and then, 
as he read the inscription beneath the pall, totally unman- 



22a KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ned, lie threw himself with frantic grief upon the coffin, 
and his whole frame was convulsed with uncontrollable 
emotions and violent sobbings. 

The hour of the burial of Charlotte was a scene of mel- 
ancholy subHmity which no pen can describe. It adds 
vastly to the effect of state funerals that they are conduct- 
ed by torch-light. The night was dark and gloomy when 
the funeral procession emerged from the portals of the man- 
sion where a few months of bliss had been terminated by 
such utter and heart-rending desolation. The heavy toll- 
ing of the funeral-bells, the muflled-dj'ums, the wailing re- 
quiems, floating through the darkened air, the somber light 
of the torches, the measured tread and glittering swords of 
the soldiery, the hearse, witli all the imposing paripherna- 
lia of woe, the horses in the black drapery of mourning, 
presented a spectacle which could never be forgotten. 

An eye-witness thus describes the scene : " When I first 
gazed upon the heart-stricken countenance of Prince Leo- 
pold of 8axe-Coburg, he was the object of universal sym- 
pathy and of national sorrow. There, in the body-carriage 
of George III., dra\^^l by a full set of the king's horses, 
each horse attended by a groom in full state livery, sat the 
chief mourner of his late adored wife, tlie Princess Char- 
lotte Augusta, the nation's favorite and the country's hope. 
Accompanying the prmce were the Dukes of York and 
Clarence, and as the bells tolled throughout the land, so aU 
classes wept with no feigned sorrow, and pitied and prayed 
for the survivor with a fervency and sincerity worthy of a 
Christian land and of a great national calamity. Ah ! 
well do I remember the prince regent's splendid black hors- 
es, fuUy caparisoned, bearing along slowly and solermily 



LEOPOLD. 221 

that hearse in which were deposited the mortal remains of 
the fairest and the brightest of her race. The servants and 
grooms of their departed royal mistress, all on foot and in 
deep mourning, led the way. They wept like young chil- 
dren. Then followed the servants and grooms of the royal 
family, of the prince regent and of their majesties, on foot, 
in full state liveries, with crape hat-bands, four and four, 
bearing flambeaux. The whole procession, from the lower 
lodge to St. George's Chapel, was flanked by the soldiery, 
and every fourth man bore a flambeaux, 

" I shall never forget the mein of Prince Leopold on that 
melancholy occasion. He had the aspect of a withered 
branch or of a shattered tree, scathed, blasted, perishing. 
All his hopes and expectations seemed to be consigned to 
the grave. His big, manly tears fell in profusion, and he 
turned away with profound and marked reluctance and ag- 
ony from the spot where his wife and child were forever to 
remain. 

" The moment I first saw the prince was one of Christian 
but of awful interest. Those who were privileged to enter 
the chapel were just expecting the arrival of the cortege. 
The effect of the choir was beyond the power of langxiage to 
depict. On the entrance of the procession, the sacred pile was 
lighted up with a profusion of wax-lights, and reflected tho 
various flags and banners of the noble order of the Garter. 
The deep tone of the organ, and the solemn performance of 
the funeral obsequies, created so deep an impression of profit- 
able and salutary melancholy, that sturdy veterans and 
manly heroes quailed beneath the effect. Expectation the 
most solemn seemed fearful of its own whispers, and as 
the clock struck nine, a slight buzz was heard, as if some 

T2 



KINGS AND QUEENS. 



movement was beginning at the bottom of the south aisle. 
This was succeeded by a complete and awful silence. The 
procession then commenced, amid a combination of circum- 
stances that rarely meet together. In the stilhiess of the 
grave, surrounded by wastmg torch-light, while the moon 
darted her mild rays through the "storied windows" and 
pointed arches of the richest tracery, the spectator felt him- 
self placed alone amid deep-sounding Gothic aisles, where 
the tread burst with measured cadence upon the ear, as if 
the tombs were opened and the dead were risen. Each 
one, with awful, panting gaze, loolced round as if in appre- 
hension upon the still, dark, though lighted chapel, its 
masses of somber glare throwing the deep obscure to greater 
distance. In an instant, the breathing silence was broken 
by a gust of sighs and tears, followed by the varied chant- 
ing of the choristers. Then came the canopy, slowly nod- 
ding to the deep, rolling chords of the organ — again a pause 
— silence the most profound — the solitary tones of the offi- 
ciating priest, tlie heart-rending yet heart-consoling prayer, 
the echoed tread of feet as the corpse was raised from the 
choir and carried to the yawning vault — all — all produced 
an effect which made stout hearts tremble, and which I 
would not even attempt to describe. 

Ah I there was one sound which had matchless music in 
it to a Christian's car, and untold consolation to the believ- 
ing penitent. As the choristers began to chant the solemn 
lay, " I know that my Redeemer liveth," a moral or a sacred 
light seemed to encircle the vault, and all the glorious and 
immortal blessings of Christianity rushed upon the mind. 
The canopy followed the clioristers, and moved at a very 
slow pace. It was of great length, and, being borne high 



LEOPOLD. 223 

in the air, had a most imposing effect. Under this canopy 
was the coffin, carried by eight of the yeomen of the guard. 

Prince Leopold followed the coffin as chief mourner. His 
appearance created the deepest interest ; his countenance de- 
noted the most profound depth of despondency ; and though 
he made evident effort to preserve calmness and fortitude, 
yet ever and anon he burst into a flood of tears. The 
coffin was now placed with the feet toward the altar, and 
Prince Leopold sat at its head. 

When the awful crisis arrived for the coffin to be lower- 
ed into the grave, the prince was unable to suppress his 
emotions, and they burst forth without restraint. The an- 
guish which seized him on hearing the affecting address of 
the venerable Garter, whose voice had so recently sounded 
in his ear amid all the brilliancy of a court, and while 
receivmg the highest chivalric honors of the nation, under 
the eye of a living consort, was evinced by sobs and groans. 

Handel's " Dead March in Saul" terminated this solemn 
and ever-memorable scene, and the prince returned to a 
widowed mansion, where he also felt, " But now at table 
thou art wanting ; our evening walk is discontiniTcd ; our 
chamber, once my paradise, forlorn ; and morning, soli- 
tary beyond human fortitude !" 

After the affecting ceremony was closed, the prime min- 
ister, forgetting his parental grief in the deeper anguish of 
the bereaved husband, invited Leopold to pass the night 
with him at Windsor Castle. " I must return," said the 
prince, "to Claremont to-night, or I shall never return." 
Here, in the haunts of past happiness, he sought the only 
remaming solace for his crushed and bleeding heart. For 
many years he seemed to live only in the remembrance of 



224 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



his sorrow. Alone and solitary, with a countenance never 
lighted up by a smile, he moved among his fellow-men, 
finding a gentle solace in the universal sympathy around 
him. Studiously avoiding all society, he seemed utterly 
unable to disengage his mind from the contemplation of 
his dreadful bereavement. He thus passed through many 
years of dejection. 

A few days after the burial, Leopold, accompanied by a 
single friend, returned to the royal cemetery, again to weep 
by the remains of all that ho held dear upon earth. The 
niche in which the colhn was placed was not sufficiently 
large to admit his own by its side, and he immediately 
made arrangements to have a portion of the wall removed, 
that, when his appointed time should come, his body might 
repose by the side of his wife and child. 

After the lapse of many months of mourning, by the ur- 
gent solicitation of his friends he visited the Continent, and 
in a melancholy tour abroad sought repose for his weary 
spirit. About one year after the death of Charlotte, a sis- 
ter of Leopold, Victoria Maria Louisa, was married to the 
Duke of Kent, a younger brother of the prince regent. 
The nuptials of his sister, however, had no influence to 
cheer his sorrowing mind. On the 24th of May, 1819, 
the Duchess of Kent gave birth to Victoria, the present 
Queen of England. The birth of his sister's child, as the 
heiress of the British throne, was the first gleam of joy 
which visited his heart. Eight months after the birth of 
this illustrious princess, the Duke of Kent was suddenly 
taken sick and died. The eyes of all Europe were directed 
to the infant Victoria, upon whose brow was now to de- 
scend the crown of the most powerful empire earth has 



LEOPOLD. 225 

ever known. Leopold took a melancholy pleasure in aid- 
ing his widowed sister to train her child for the high desti- 
ny which awaited her. On the 29th of January, 1820, 
George III., after ten years of insanity, died, in the eighty- 
second year of his age. The prmce regent now ascended 
the throne as George IV. In the festivities which attend- 
ed the coronation of the new king, Leopold had no heart 
to participate, though that king was the father of his lost 
bride. Caroline, the repudiated wife of George and the 
mother of Charlotte, was at that time traveling upon the 
Continent. Lord Hutchinson was immediately dispatched 
to her, to offer her an annual income of two hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars, and all the titles and dignities of 
Queen of England, upon condition that she would never 
return again to that island. She resolutely declined what 
she deemed the insulting offer, and, angrily hastening back 
to England to assert her claims, was received with the 
loudest acclamations by the populace, who were indignant 
at the treatment she had received from her royal spouse. 
On the day of the coronation of her husband, Caroline 
endeavored, as Queen of England, to force her way into 
Westminster Chapel at the hour when George IV. was to 
be crowned. She was, however, repelled by the police. A 
strange scene would doubtless have ensued had this deep- 
ly-injured and almost frantic woman obtained access to her 
vile and faithless consort as the crown, temporal and spirit- 
ual, was descending upon his brow. It is rather difficult 
to repress the mischievous wish that she had succeeded. 
The world would doubtless have had an edifying exhibition 
of both the prose and poetry of royalty. The robe and 
the crown of coronation would but have given additional 



226 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



effects to the shrill denunciations and expressive gestures 
of an enraged ^yife, who had previously proved that she 
was not at all choice in her selection of emphatic epithets. 

George, to frustrate her plans and to expose her to uni- 
versal contempt, accused her before the Parliament as an 
adulteress. The most disgraceful trial recorded in history 
then ensued. The situation of Leopold in this emergency 
was painful in the extreme. The father of his sainted 
bride accused her mother of the most ignominious of crimes. 
George IV. was a worn-out debauchee, and the indigna- 
tion of the community was aroused that such a shameless 
profligate should accuse his forsaken spouse of being un- 
faithful to vows which he had so recklessly, notoriously, 
and insultingly trampled under his feet. Though there 
can be but little doubt that Caroline was guilty — that, 
stung to perfect madness, in the intensity of her rage, and 
in the spirit of pure revenge, she resolved to pay her faith- 
less husband in his own coin, the popular voice, in tones of 
thunder, declared tliat, guilty or not guilty, Georg'e had no 
right to utter one word of comi)laint. He liad abandoned 
her ; he had insulted her in every conceivable way ; he had 
stung her to the very heart by the humiliations heaped 
upon her ; he had himself, without disguise, plunged into 
the most debasing licentiousness, and an instinctive sense 
of justice in every heart declared that, guilty as she might 
be in the sight of her Maker, her perjured husband had no 
right to complain. 

Every fresh charge and every new witness but caused 
a sympathizing public to turn a deaf ear to evidence, and 
to shout more resolutely in defense of the queen. The pop- 
ulace, each day, in vast and enthusiastic gatherings, sur- 



LEOPOLD. 227 

rounded her carriage, and filled the air with acclamations 
as she was borne to and from the hall of trial. The min- 
isters of the prosecution were assailed in the streets with 
groans and hisses, and were pelted with mud. After a pro- 
tracted and most revolting investigation, the excitement of 
the popular mind was so intense, that the ministers thought 
it prudent, by delays, to let the matter die. The agitation, 
however, of Caroline's mind was such, for she was by na- 
ture of the most violent and impetuous spirit, that she was 
suddenly taken sick, and died on the 7th of August, 1821, 
in the forty-third year of her age. Upon her dying bed, 
she stated that she had hardly known one hour of happiness 
during her whole life, and she requested that her remains 
should be conveyed back to the home of her childhood in 
Germany, and that there should be inscribed upon her tomb, 
"Here lies Caroline, England's unhappy and injured queen." 
George IV. lived nine years after the death of Caroline. 
These latter years of his life were clouded with the deep- 
est gloom. Youth had departed. His constitution was 
broken down by dissipation, and he was tortured with dis- 
ease and pain. His mind was so utterly prostrated and in- 
gulfed in melancholy — Remorse, with her scorpion lash, fol- 
lowing him, and bodings of terrors to come heading liis path 
— that he could endure no society, and consigned himself to 
the solitude and silence of a sick chamber in the inmost re- 
cesses of his palace. So gi*eat was his dread of encounter- 
ing any company, or even of being seen, that when, by the 
urgency of his physician, he rode in the park of Windsor, 
outriders were always dispatched to guard against any one 
meeting him on the way. He had certain avenues prepared, 
containing winding drives of nearly thirty miles in extent, 



228 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



from which the public were entirely excluded. Often ho 
would sit m his room, hour after hour, with his elbows upon > 
his knees, and his face buried in his hands, uttering not a 
word, entirely regardless of the attendants around him, and 
would there give vent to the unknown anguish which was 
lacerating his heart by bursting into a flood of tears. Long 
and dismal indeed must have been those weary months of 
sickness and pain, in which remorse, in view of the past, 
and dread of the retributions of the future, concentrated 
upon each passing moment the intensest woe. Conscience, 
once aroused, is a direful avenger. But time, even to the 
wretched, does not stop. Lingering days and nights came 
and went, and the miserable king was dragged resistlessly 
on to the last dread catastrophe. At length the hour to 
die arrived. It was midnight. Racked with pain, and op- 
pressed with the deepest mental gloom, the miserable mon- 
arch turned restlessly upon his uneasy pillow. Suddenly, 
with a con\ailsivc s])ring, he rose in his bed, exclaiming, 
" O God ! I am dying I" His physician caught him in his 
arms. A spasmodic shudder passed over the frame of the 
dying king, and uttering in most mournful tones the words, 
" This is death," his spirit dej)arted to the tribunal of his 
final judge. 

Leopold still lived a life of seclusion and sorrow. He 
-seemed irrecoverably wrecked by the storm which had 
swept over him. He spent much of his time in solitary 
journeyings on the Continent, avoiding all scenes of festiv- 
ity, and passing his lonely hours in studious retirement. 
About ten years from the death of Charlotte, Greece, after 
a long and sanguinary conflict, was emancipated from the 
thraldom of the Turk. The fleets of England, France, and 



LEOPOLD. 229 



Russia had entirely annihilated the Turkish fleet at Nav- 
arino. The allied powers, having thus secured the inde- 
pendence of the Greeks, deemed it incumbent upon them, 
to secure order in the chaotic kingdom, to select some suit- 
able person to place upon the newly-erected throne. The 
ministers of the three allied powers met in London, and 
offered to Prmce Leopold the crown of Greece. He hes- 
itated for some time in coming to a decision. At length, 
however, he declined the offer. The Greeks were not cor- 
dial in the reception of a king thus imposed upon them, and 
he would be compelled to sustain his power by force. His 
private fortune was not sufficiently large for him to sustain 
the expenses of royalty m a country where the revenue 
must necessarily be small. George IV. was in a very 
feeble state of health, and liable at any time to die. His 
brother Wilham, who would next ascend the throne, was 
also childless, and it was therefore to be anticipated that 
Victoria, who was the next heir, would soon be queen, 
and very probably would need the services of her uncle 
Leopold as regent. His sister, the Duchess of Kent, the 
mother of Victoria, was very unwilling, under these circum- 
stances, that he should leave England. The throne of 
Greece was offered to Leopold on the 8d of February, 1830. 
On the 20th of February he accepted the offer ; but, for 
reasons above assigned, on the 21st of May he resigned 
this unenviable crown. 

In July of the same year, the three days' revolution in 
Paris shook all Europe as by an earthquake. The suc- 
cessful result of that popular movement led to similar agi- 
tations in Belgium ; and that kingdom was dismembered 
from Holland, and established as an independent monarchy. 

U 



230 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

The Belgians, in looking around for a king, chose first the 
Duke de Nemours, the second son of Louis Philippe, who 
was appointed regent of France in the event of the decease 
of Louis Philippe prior to the young Count de Paris coming 
of age. For reasons of state, Louis Philippe was not will- 
ing that his son should accept the offer. The Belgians 
then turned their attention to Prince Leopold, and, with 
almost perfect unanimity, elected him as their sovereign. 
A delegation of ten members of the Congress proceeded to 
London to inform the prince of his election, and to urge 
upon him the acceptance of the crown. His sister was still 
extremely unwilling to have him leave England ; but Bel- 
gium was comparatively near, and he could be ever at hand 
to advise his sister in any emergence. Louis Philippe, en- 
tertaining the highest respect for the character and abilities 
of the prince, was very desirous that he should occupy the 
neighboring throne. He also exerted his influence with the 
other crowned heads of Europe to entreat him to accept the 
proffered scepter. 

On the 21st of July, 1831, Leopold made his triumphant i 
entry into Brussels as the elected King of Belgium, and, 
surrounded by the acclamations of the people, took the oath 
to maintain the Constitution and independence of the coun- 
try. The King of Holland, Leopold's former rival for the ! 
hand of Charlotte, was unwilling to surrender so large a i 
portion of his dominions to one who had once before thwart- -, 
ed him in the dearest hopes of his life. He immediately ' 
raised an army, and in four weeks appeared on the frontier 
in battle array. Leopold, in person, headed his troops to 
repel the invader. Though he manifested consummate 3 
skill and bravery on the field of battle — for, from childhood, , 



LEOPOLD. 231 

he had been accustomed to the din of arms — the Belgians, 
panic-stricken, fled, leaving the king, overwhelmed with 
mortification and shame, to retreat to his capital, pursued 
by the victorious foe. 

France and England, who aided in placing him upon the 
throne, immediately came to his rescue. Louis Philippe 
dispatched fifty thousand troops to Brussels, and the English 
fleet weighed anchor, and appeared in all its formidable 
strength upon the coast of Holland. The Dutch held pos- 
session of the almost impregnable citadel of Antwerp. The 
energies of England and France were combined for its re- 
duction. It was assailed by a terrific and long-protracted 
bombardment. The sublimities of the scene, when, for 
many successive days and nights, the air was filled with 
the fiery meteors of war, attracted thousands of spectators 
from all parts of Europe. The towers of the churches and 
all the surroundmg heights were crowded, by day and by 
night, by observers gazing upon the brilliant and sublime 
pageant, where naught met the eye but the grandeur of 
war, without any of its accompaniments of blood and misery 
It was the rare spectacle of war putting forth all its ener- 
gies in the midst of the peaceful scenes of busy life. 

General Chasse defended himself with the most heroic 
bravery ; but at length, when every inch within the fortress 
had been plowed up with exploding shells, and a practicable 
breach had been made in the wall, to save the unavailing 
effusion of blood in the approaching assault, he consented to 
capitulate, and in May, 1833, a treaty was signed, which 
left Leopold in the undisputed possession of his kingdom. 

When Leopold accepted the offer of the throne of Belgium, 
he accepted it with all its consequences. As the throne was 



232 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



hereditary, it was expected by the nation that he should 
again marry, that he might transmit the crown to his heirs. 
A few years ago, he was united to the second daughter of 
Louis Phihppe, a lady of great beauty, of distinguished ac- 
complishments of mind and heart, and a worthy successor 
of the Princess Charlotte. Many long years of mourning, 
unfeigned and deep, had passed away. Time had, in some 
degree, healed the wound of his heart. The cares of em- 
pire pressed upon him, and the happiness of many millions 
was subject to his control. The nation applauded his 
choice. Belgium is now in a state of greater prosperity and 
happiness than it has ever enjoyed before. Leopold I. is 
one of the most able, conscientious, and virtuous monarchs 
who has ever s^it upon a throne. His life, checkered in its 
earlier periods by storms and sorrow, now exhibits the pen- 
sive and rich beauty of its autumnal day. 

Leopold's popularity, of late, has been rather upon the 
wane in England, in consequence of his unwillingness to 
relinquish the pension of two hundred and forty thousand 
dollars a year, settled upon him by the British Parliament 
at the time of his marriage with Charlotte, in case he 
should survive that princess. Much of this sum he has an- 
nually expended in embellishing Claremont, which he still 
retains. His father-in-law, Louis Philippe, has now retired 
to this beautiful mansion, as his retreat from the cares and 
perils of royalty. Various members of his numerous fam- 
ily are also gathered around him there. The revolutionary 
movement which has burst forth with so much violence in 
France, and is passing all over Europe, has also manifested 
itself with much energy in Belgium. It is reported that 
Leopold is quite weary of the kingly office ; and these new 



LEOPOLD. 23a 

troubles may not improbably induce him to follow the ex- 
ample of his father, and abdicate his throne. It will, there- 
fore, not be strange should the lapse of a few months intro- 
duce Leopold again to the home of his early love and joy. 
In the retirement of Claremont he may pass the evening 
of his days, till, upon the couch where Charlotte expired, 
i he also may sink into the sleep of death. 



ISABELLA IL 



Isabella II. 



I 



N the year 1807 there was seated upon the throne of 
Spain a debauched and gkittonous old man, Charles IV. 
He was feeble in mind, impotent in action, and dissolute, 
to the utmost extreme, in his habits. He was unendowed 
with a solitary quality to redeem him from the world's con- 
tempt. His wife, Louisa Maria, a Neapolitan princess, 
was perhaps as shameless a profligate as could be formd in 
her whole dominions. Their union was harmonious in 
degradation, congenial in sensual vice. There was not 
enough sense of honor left in the bosom of either of these 
wretched creatures to feel the degradation which each was 
inflicting upon the other. 

In the body-guard of the king there was a handsome 
young soldier, Manuel Godoy. He sang beautifully. The 
queen heard his warblmg voice, and the silvery tones of 
his lute, as they floated in the moonlight around the angles 
and the towers of the Escuriel. Luxuriating in that soft 
clime of love, the queen joyfully surrendered herself to the 
fascination. The imbecile old king also loves to hear Go- 
doy smg and play, and cares not how high the queen ele- 
vates her favorites, so long as she interferes not with those 
he chooses. The queen receives Godoy into the palace. 
She lavishes upon him wealth and honors. He receives 
titles of nobility. He is distinguished, in consequence of a 
treaty he made, as " The Prince of Peace." Both king 

239 



240 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

and queen are entirely under his control. The degraded 
old monarch is happy to be relieved from the cares of state, 
that he may be undisturbed in his hunting and his amours. 
Godoy reigns over Spain. " Every day," said Charles to 
Napoleon, "winter as well as summer, I go out to shoot 
fj-om the morning till noon. I then dine and return to the 
chase, which I continue till sunset. Manuel Godoy then 
gives me a brief account of what is going on, and I go to 
bed, to recommence the same life on the morrow." Such 
were the habits of this King of Spain durmg twenty years 
of political convulsions, which were upheaving all the 
thrones of Europe, and which eventually prostrated his 
own in ruins. The guns of Marengo and Austerlitz were 
unheeded, the crash of falling empires was unthought of, 
the clamor of all Europe in arms was disregarded, as this 
miserable scion of the Bourbon race returned, day after day, 
from chasing rabbits and foxes, to the foulest debauchery 
with his wine and liis concubines. A silly, maudlin good- 
nature harmonized with the other despicable traits of this 
royal dotard. Such was the man who occupied the throne 
nearest to that which was energized by the sleepless spirit 
of Napoleon Bonaparte. 

Charles had three sons, Ferdinand, Carlos, and Francis- 
co. Ferdinand, the heir-apparent to the throne, was at 
this time twenty-five years of age. He inherited the men- 
tal imbecility of his father, and the moral profligacy of both 
parents. The king and queen had for many years re- 
garded this son with the most malignant and inveterate 
hostility. Ferdinand requited these unnatural affections 
with rancor equally cordial. The heir-apparent was anx- 
ious to ascend the throne, and was weary of waitmg for his 



ISABELLA IL 241 



liis father to leave it. It was necessary that the parents 
should first die, in order thus to accommodate their son. 
As neither Charles nor Louisa manifested any disposition to 
confer this favor upon their impatient child, Ferdinand pre- 
pared a little poison to expedite their departure. The king, 
through Godoy, discovered the plot. Ferdinand was ar- 
rested and imprisoned. Both father and mother tliought 
that the most judicious course to be pursued with their 
son would be to place his neck under the guillotine. The 
nation hated Godoy, the insolent upstart, the paramour of 
the queen. The popular voice was for Ferdinand. In the 
choice of evils, the people preferred a young profligate to 
hoary-headed miscreants, or to the haughty, low-born fa- 
vorite. 

Ferdinand was arrested and imprisoned. The parents 
were endeavoring, by heaping merited obloquy upon their 
child, to prepare the public mind for his execution. But 
the indignation of the court found no response in the popu- 
lar heart. Madrid loved Ferdinand out of pure hatred to 
Charles, and Louisa, and Godoy. Louisa showed, at least, 
some discrimination of character and some power of de- 
scription in the declaration that Ferdinand had " a mule's 
head and a tiger's heart." The only fault in this descrip- 
tion is the gross injustice done to both the tiger and the 
mule. 

The masses began to swarm in the streets. Low mut- 
terings, mingled with oaths and imprecations, were heard, 
like the gatherings of a storm. Cudgels rang upon the 
pavements ; knives gleamed in the air. The gilded chariot 
of the hated minister, a gorgeous equipage, with liveried 
lackeys, appears in the street. It is the spark falling into 

X 



242 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



the gunpowder. Discontent swells to frenzy. Groans and 
hisses are followed by clubs and stones, and Godoy is es- 
corted to his palace by a swelling, rushing, roaring mob. 
His fleet horses alone save him. The imbecile old king 
was overwhehiied with terror, and knew not what to do. 
He wrote a pathetic letter to Napoleon : 

" Sire, my Brother, — I have discovered with horror that 
my eldest son, the heir presumptive to the throne, has not 
only formed the design to dethrone, but even to attempt 
the life of myself and his mother. Such an atrocious at- 
tempt merits the most exemplary punishment. I pray 
your majesty to aid me by your light and counsel." 

Ferdinand also turns his imploring eye to the great ar- 
biter of kings. He will cheerfully surrender himself and 
Spain to Napoleon's guiding mind, if the Great Emperor 
will allow him but nominally to wear the crown. He 
thinks that it would be good policy to form a matrimonial 
alliance with some member of the Bonaparte family. Per- 
haps Napoleon has some sister, or aunt, or cousin, whom 
he will allow Ferdmand to marry. The haughty Bourbon, 
in whose veins flows the blood of generations of kings, pur- 
ple with vice and crime, bows crmgingly before the plebeian 
monarch, soliciting the honor of a nuptial union with any 
who bear his name. He M*rites : 

" Sire, — The world more and more daily admires the 
greatness and goodness of Napoleon. Rest assured the em- 
peror shall ever find in Ferdinand the most faithful and de- 
voted son. Ferdinand implores, therefore, with the utmost 
confidence, the paternal protection of the emperor, not only 
to permit him the honor of an alliance with his family, but 
that he would smooth away all difliculties, and cause all 



ISABELLA IL 243 



obstacles to disappear before the accomplishment of so long- 
cherished a wish." 

Napoleon rejected, rather contemptuously, the degrading 
alliance, and coldly replied to both father and son, " With 
the domestic dissensions of the royal family of Spain I can 
have nothing to do." He had, however, previously deter- 
mmed to expel the Bourbons from the throne they disgi'ac- 
ed, and to place the crown upon the brow of some member 
of his own family. He was induced to this resolve by the 
following provocation : 

When Napoleon was fifteen hundred miles from the fron- 
tiers of France, in the heart of Prussia, contending against 
the confederated armies of Prussia, Russia, and England, 
who had combined to tear the crown from his brow, he 
stood one night upon a lofty eminence, gazing upon the 
camp-fires of his foes. A girdle of flame, mounting from 
innumerable watch-fires, swept the horizon, almost encir- 
cling the troops of the emperor. It was the 13th of August, 
1806. The cold wind of midnight swept the bleak summit 
of the Landgrafenberg, where Napoleon, wrapped in his 
cloak, had thrown himself upon the ground, to share the 
frigid bivouac of the soldiers. Napoleon was far from home, 
surrounded by numerous and powerful foes. On the ensu- 
ing morning a decisive battle was to be fought, and the is- 
sue of the conflict was at least doubtful. Napoleon had 
made all his arrangements, long before the morning should 
dawn, to lead his troops to the onset. In that gloomy and 
momentous hour, when Napoleon felt that his throne was 
trembling beneath him, intercepted dispatches were placed 
in his hands convicting the Spanish court of the blackest 
perfidy. Though in alliance with France, and makmg 



244 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



protestations of the most sincere friendship, Godoy had re- 
solved, Charles readily consenting, to take advantage of the 
emperor's absence and of his perilous position, and, entering 
into an alliance with England, to cross the Pyrenees and 
attack him in the rear. This treachery was of the blackest 
hue. The evidence was incontestable. As Napoleon was 
not one of the meekest of men, it is not surprising that the 
perusal of the documents should have roused his indigna- 
tion. He, however, calmly remarked, " The Bourbons of 
Spain shall be replaced by princes of my own family." 
From that hour the doom of the Spanish house of Bourbon 
was sealed. 

At four o'clock the next morning, Napoleon, at the head 
of his columns, was leading his troops through the darkness 
to tlie fields of Jena and Auerstadt. Those brilliant but 
awful victories scattered the allies like leaves before the 
tempest. The throne of the emperor was more firmly es- 
tablished than ever before, and Europe was prostrate be- 
fore him. Impotent Spain, amazed and terrified, hid her 
sword, and came again to the conqueror a cringing syco- 
phant. But Napoleon was not again to be duped. 

And here let me allude to that military eloquence which 
was one of the elements of Napoleon's power. 

It was upon the evening preceding the battle of Auster- 
litz that Napoleon had issued that most remarkable procla- 
mation, in which he disclosed to the whole army the plan of 
his campaign, and assured the soldiers that, if they would 
faithfully do their duty, he would keep himself out of the 
reach of danger. Nothing can more decisively show the mu- 
tual confidence — nay, more, the almost filial and parental 
love — existing between the emperor and his troops : 

" The Russians want to turn my right, and they will 



ISABELLA II 245 



present to me their flank. Soldiers, I will myself direct all 
your battalions. Depend upon me to keep myself free from 
the fire, so long as, with your accustomed bravery, you 
bring disorder and confusion into the enemy's ranks ; but 
if victory were for one moment uncertain, you would see 
me in the foremost ranks, to expose myself to their attack. 
There will be the honor of the French infantry — the first 
infantry in the world. This victory will terminate your 
campaign, and then the peace we shall make will be wor- 
thy of France, of you, and of me." 

And what sublimity is there in his address to his troops 
at the close of this eventful day ! 

" Soldiers ! I am content with you. You have covered 
your eagles with immortal glory. An army of one hund- 
red thousand men, commanded by the Emperors of Russia 
and of Austria, have been, in less than four hours, cut to 
pieces and dispersed ; whoever has escaped your sword has 
been drowned in the lakes. Forty stand of colors — the 
standards of the imperial guard of Russia — one hundred 
and twenty pieces of cannon, twenty generals, and more 
than thirty thousand prisoners, are the results of this day, 
forever celebrated. That infantry, so much boasted of, and 
in numbers so superior to you, could not resist your shook, 
and henceforth you have no longer any rivals to fear. 

" Soldiers ! when the French people placed upon my head 
the imperial crown, I intrusted myself to you ; I relied upon 
you to maintain it in the high splendor and glory which 
alone can give it value in my eyes. Soldiers ! I will soon 
bring you back to France ; there you will be the object of 
my most tender solicitude. It will be suflicient for you to 
say ' I WAS AT THE BATTLE OF AusTERLiTZ,' in Order that 
your countryman may answer, ' Voila un brave I' " 

X2 



246 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



Wellington's characteristic address to his troops on the 
field of Waterloo was, " Up, boys, and at ^em /" and Blucher 
led his forty thousand Prussians to the deadly charge, upon 
that blood-deluged plain, with a woman's bonnet upon his 
head, and a green veil falling before his face to shelter his 
inflamed eyes. General Taylor is not the only " rough 
and ready." 

We greatly prefer the eloquence of Bonaparte. As he 
first beheld the Mamelukes drawn up in order of battle be- 
fore the Pyramids of Egypt, he inspired his troops with al- 
most supernatural energy, as, riding before their ranks, he 
exclaimed, " Soldiers ! from the summits of yonder pyra- 
mids forty generations are watching your actions." It was 
this poetic temperament, united with almost superhuman 
activity and power, which made the soldiers of Napoleon 
love, with something like delirium, " le petit corporal.'''' 
The army was ready to follow him to the ends of the earth. 
His troops made ramparts of their own bodies to shield him 
from exploding shells. 

It was about a year from this time when Charles, Louisa, 
Ferdinand, and Godoy were all appealing to Napoleon for 
help. Ferdinand was in prison for attempting to poison his 
parents ; and both father and mother were thirsting for 
the blood of their son. Napoleon determined to avail him- 
self of these dissensions to accomplish the purpose he had 
formed. 

The populace of Madrid so thoroughly despised the king 
and queen, and so cordially hated Godoy, that they ener- 
getically espoused the cause of Ferdinand. They accused 
Godoy of plotting the ruin of the young prince by false ac- 
cusations. The clamor of the gathering mob, incited by 



ISABELLA IL 247 



Ferdinand and his partisans, swells as an ocean storm 
through the streets of the capital. Ten times ten thousand 
swarm on the pave, and with knives and bludgeons con- 
gregate around the palace of the Prince of Peace. The 
king's troops parade with bayonets and gleaming sabers ; 
but the officers dared not order them to charge the insur- 
gents, for their sympathies were with the people. Godoy 
was hardly warned of the storm of popular indignation thus 
ready to burst upon him, when the tumult was thundering 
at his doors. The terrified favorite fled to the garret for 
concealment. He buried himself beneath a pile of old mats, 
thrown into the darkness of projecting chimneys, where 
spiders had for years woven their webs undisturbed. The 
miserable man has hardly got into his covert ere the tramp 
of the mob is heard upon the floor of his garret, and oaths 
and imprecations fall like Death's doom upon his ear. Each 
moment he anticipates as his last. Night comes. During 
the long, dark hours, the streets and the palace are full of 
the clamor of the intoxicated and maddened crowd. Godoy 
dares not stir. Day dawns. The tumult of the insurrec- 
tion swells with the rising sun, and Godoy is afraid even to 
tremble. Hunger devours him ; thirst tortures him. His 
limbs are cramped into almost unendurable agony ; but de- 
tection is death. Night again comes. Still the enraged 
rioters shout through the gloom for Godoy. Thousands of 
eyes are searching for him, and thousands of knives are 
gleaming for vengeance. The night of almost insupport- 
able anguish of body and mind lingers slowly away, and 
another morning dawns. Thus, for thirty-six hours, tho 
wretched Godoy lies in his hiding-place, shivering with tei"- 
ror. But now, at length, thirst has become even more in- 



248 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



tolerable than the fear of death. Faint and trembling, he 
creeps stealthily down stairs for water. A watehfnl eye 
detects him, and shouts the alarm. The cry resounds from 
street to street, and the masses, in confluent waves, roll on 
toward the palace. Godoy is seized and dragged into the 
streets. A few select mounted troops of the king cut their 
way through the throng with drawn sabers, as they ride 
down upon them for the rescue. Two dragoons seize Go- 
doy by the arms, and drag him, suspended from their sad- 
dles between them, over the rough pavement, upon the 
full gallop. The roaring multitude come rushing in pur- 
suit. Half dead with fright and bruises, Godoy is throwni 
for protection into the nearest prison, and the iron gates 
close upon him. Thus is he rescued. 

The enraged populace, balked of their victim, paraded 
the streets, and wreaked their vengeance upon the dwell- 
ings and the furniture of the friends of the hated favorite. 
House after house was sacked ; and here and there the 
ominous cry was heard, " To the palace .'" Portentous 
threats began to arise against Charles and Louisa. The 
palace was filled with consternation. The panic-stricken 
king, to appease his insurgent subjects, issued a decree, 
banishing Godoy from the realm, and abdicating the throne 
in favor of his "well-beloved son Ferdinand." The people 
had triumphed, and Madrid was filled with rejoicing. Fer- 
dmand exultingly, yet with coward fear, at the head of the 
mob, ascended the throne. 

But Charles again, most imploringly, appeals to Napoleon 
for help. "I have resigned," he writes, "in favor of my son, 
because the dm of arms and the clamor of my insurgent 
guards left me no alternative but resignation or death. 



ISABELLA n. 249 



which would speedily be followed by that of the queen. I 
have been forced to abdicate, and have no longer any hope 
but in the aid and support of my magnanimous ally, the 
Emperor Napoleon." 

Ferdinand also immediately wrote, with the utmost im- 
portunity, to secure from the Great Emperor the recogni- 
tion of his lawful title to the throne of Spain. He spared 
no expressions of adulation, and no efforts of sycophancy, 
to obtain the support of that powerful will which he knew 
must be the arbiter of his fate. Napoleon despised father 
and son alike, and cautiously, yet energetically, moved on 
in his plan to eject them both from the throne. Ferdi- 
nand, hoping that by a personal interview he would be bet- 
ter able to secure the favor of the emperor, and lured by 
invitations from him, advanced, yet with great hesita- 
tion, and receiving many remonstrances from his people, 
step by step, till he crossed the Pyrenees, and met Napole- 
on at Bayonne, within the territory of France. Here he 
was detained by the most polite and magnificent, yet ef- 
fectual imprisonment. He was treated with the utmost 
deference, surrounded by a splendid retinue, and sumptu- 
ously regaled. Napoleon studiously refrained from ac- 
knowledging him as king, but regarded him merely as a 
claimant of the throne. He must hear both parties be- 
fore he can decide to whom the crown by right belongs. 
Charles was anxious to urge his claims, and, fearing the 
personal influence of Ferdinand upon the emperor, decided 
to go also to Bayonne to plead his own cause. Napoleon 
encouraged them to come, perfidiously say the English, 
adroitly say the French. Charles, Louisa, and Godoy con- 
sequently enter their luxurious carriages,^ taking with 



250 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



them Carlos and Francisco, the two younger brothers of 
Ferdinand, and cross the Pyrenees. They are received by 
Napoleon with the utmost cordiality. The whole garrison, 
under arms, received them at the gates of Bayonne with 
royal honors. Napoleon, immediately upon their arrival, 
called to welcome them. Says Alison, " The old king met 
the emperor at the foot of the stair, and threw himself into 
his arms. Napoleon whispered in his ear, ' You will al- 
ways find me, as you have done, your best and firmest 
friend.' Napoleon supported him under the arm as he as- 
cended the stair, returning to the apartments. ' See, Lou- 
isa,' said the old king, ' he is carrymg me.' Never had the 
emperor's manner appeared more gracious ; never did he 
more completely impose, by the apparent sincerity of his 
kindness, upon the future victims of his perfidy." 

Charles, enervated by years of vicious indulgence, de- 
sired only ease and facilities for luxurious dissipation. Na- 
poleon immediately held a private interview with Charles, 
Louisa, and Godoy, and all three most cheerfully united in 
surrendering the uneasy crown of Spain to Napoleon, in 
consideration of a handsome castle, ample grounds for hunt- 
ing, and money enough for the gratification of all their vo- 
luptuous desires. They thus enjoyed the opulence of roy- 
alty without its cares. All that Napoleon wanted was the 
care — the power. Personal indulgence had few charms for 
his energetic spirit. The ignoble trio, well pleased with 
this arrangement, retired to Italy, and slumbered away 
their remaming years in idleness and sensual excess. 

Ferdinand and his brothers were, however, more reluct- 
ant to surrender the throne of their ancestors. Charles as- 
sailed them in the strongest language of vituperation, and 



ISABELLA IL 251 



declared that he would institute proceedings against them 
as traitors if they refused. Louisa came down upon her 
son, before the astonished council, with Billingsgate elo- 
quence, and for a time all were mute with astonishment in 
view of her amazing volubility. Poor Ferdinand seemed 
actually to dodge the sharp and cutting words which, like 
grape-shot, were rattling upon him from his mother's tongue. 
Napoleon now threw off all disguise, and assured Ferdi- 
nand that he would never allow a member of the house of 
Bourbon to occupy the throne of Spain. By the combined 
influence of promises and threats, he soon obtained from the 
three brothers the relinquishment, in his favor, of all their 
rights to the crown. Napoleon then terminated this strange 
scene by assigning to the three brothers the Castle of Val- 
en^ay as their regal mansion. 

A large assemblage of the Spanish nobles met at Bay- 
onne, anxious to free their country from the disgraceful dy- 
nasty by which it was plunged into imbecility and shame, 
and to receive a monarch who could be respected. Joseph 
Bonaparte was a conscientious and worthy man ; and had 
he remained quietly upon the throne of Spain to the pres- 
ent hour, millions would have had cause to rejoice. En- 
gland, determined to crush Napoleon, roused the disaffect- 
ed, deluged the Peninsula for years in the blood of a civil 
war, drove Joseph Bonaparte from the throne, and shouted 
with exultation as she replaced the crown upon the brow 
of that incarnation of stupidity, and treachery, and cruelty. 

Napoleon's own account of this affair to Las Casas is in 
the following words : " Ferdinand offered, on his ovm ac- 
count, to govern entirely at my devotion, as much so as 
the Prince of Peace had done in the name of Charles IV. ; 



252 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

and I must admit that, if I had fallen into their views, I 
should have acted much more prudently than I have actu- 
ally done. When I found them all assembled at Bayonne, 
I found myself in command of much more than I could 
have ventured to hope for. The same occurred there as in 
many other events of my life, which have been ascribed to 
my policy, but, in fact, were owing to my good fortune. 
Here I found the Gordian knot before me. I cut it. I 
proposed to Charles IV. and the queen that they should 
cede to me their rights to the throne. They at once 
agi'eed to it ; I had almost said voluntarily, so deeply were 
then- hearts ulcerated toward their son, and so desirous had 
they and their favorite now become of security and repose. 
Ferdinand did not make any extraordinary resistance ; 
neither violence nor menaces were employed against him ; 
and if fear decided him, which I well believe was the case, 
it concerns him alone." 

Ferdinand, immediately upon his accession to the throne, 
with perfidy unparalleled, commenced his " reign of terror." 
Violating all his most sacred promises and oaths, he ban- 
ished from his realm the English, by whose blood his res- 
toration had been accomplished, refused his people the Con- 
stitution he had solemnly promised them, and sent the pur- 
est patriots by hundreds and thousands to bleed upon the 
scaffold, or to die in exile upon the sands of Africa. Mer- 
cy had no appeal which could touch his heart. The gloom 
of the most relentless despotism settled down over the whole 
length and breadth of Spain, and now that once powerful 
and energetic monarchy is almost in a state of semi-bar- 
barism, and England is groaning under the burden of the 
enormous debts accumulated in the prosecution of the Pen- 



ISABELLA IL 253 



insular and its kindred wars. Spain presents to the trav- 
eler an aspect of widespread dreariness and desolation ; and 
though, in all its natural advantages and resources, it is 
one of the most beautiful countries on the surface of the 
globe, a sparse and beggarly population of but about ten 
millions are now scattered over the neglected hills and vales 
of the Peninsula. 

In the Castle of Valen^ay the three brothers were sur- 
rounded by all the appliances of opulence. They soon 
found, however, that their obsequious servants were also 
their vigilant guards, and that, though luxuriating in 
wealth and splendor, and free to prosecute their pleasure, 
they were, nevertheless, hopeless prisoners on the soil of 
France. Still they were well contented with their mglori- 
ous yet voluptuous lot ; and their admiration of Napoleon 
was such, incredible as it may seem, that they were accus- 
tomed to celebrate his successive victories by illuminations 
and bonfires, at the expense of the woods of Valengay ; at 
which the proprietor of the estate, Talleyrand, very bitterly 
complained. This is but another instance of the singular 
infatuation with which, as by a species of magic, Napoleon 
succeeded in makmg his very victims join eagerly in swell- 
ing the tide of his glory. 

In 1814, after the Spanish princes had been five years at 
Valen9ay, came the downfall of Napoleon. Joseph Bona- 
parte, whom Napoleon had placed upon the throne of Spain, 
was driven from the kingdom. Ferdinand and his brothers 
were set at liberty, and with a magnificent retinue, and in 
regal splendor, returned to Spain. The degenerate Span- 
iards, with much apathy, received Ferdinand VII. to the 
throne of his ancestors. Professedly to accomplish this res- 

Y 



254 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

toration, England had deluged the Peninsula with blood, 
and filled its overarching skies with the smoke of its smoul- 
dering cities. The restoration of the Bourbons to the throne 
of Spain was almost the greatest curse which could by any 
possibility have been inflicted upon the country. Napoleon 
thought only of national grandeur ; the Bourbons thought 
of nothing biit sensual gratification. Spain, through the 
impotence and degradation of the restored Bourbons, has 
fallen into the lowest abyss of national adversity. 

Ferdinand married first his cousin Maria, a princess of 
Naples. She was a princess of high accomplishments, pos- 
sessing a warm and confiding heart, an elevated spirit, and 
great independence of character. He soon got weary of his 
bride, and treated her with the grossest abuse and insults. 
His elevated rank did not meliorate in the least the coarse- 
ness and vulgarity of his mind. Like a sailor in a drunken 
brawl, he would assail his trembling spouse with the most 
profane and indecent language of vituperation. After five 
years of misery, the wretched princess died of poison, prob- 
ably administered by her husband's hand. In three months 
from her death Ferdinand married Maria Isabel, a princess 
of Portugal. She, one year after lier unhappy union, died 
miserably in a fit. A few months after her death the king 
took, for his third wife, Maria Amelia, a princess of Sax- 
ony. ' She endured him for ten sorrowful years, and then, 
weary of life, sunk into the grave. All three were child- 
less. Ferdinand had now attained the age of forty-five 
years, and had no heir to inherit his throne. His constitu- 
tion was exhausted by a dissolute life, and there seemed 
but little prospect that he could transmit the crown to any 
descendant of his own. 



ISABELLA n. 255 



Should he die childless, the scepter would pass into the 
hands of his brother Carlos. This prince had become a fa- 
natic monk, and the inmates of the cloisters and all the rigid 
religionists had espoused his cause. The brothers now 
were rivals, and implacable hostility toward each other had 
sprung up in their bosoms, Ferdinand, however, immedi* 
ately sought another bride, and married a daughter of the 
King of Naples. Christina was an ambitious, frivolous, 
unprincipled girl of twenty, utterly devoid of conscience, 
and totally devoted to gayety and pleasure. Carlos and 
his party were bitterly opposed to this union ; for, should 
the queen produce an heir to the throne, their hopes would 
all be dashed. The ministers of Ferdinand, in their solici- 
tude, suggested to Christina that a law higher than that of 
ordinary morality rendered it essential that she should be 
the mother of their future king. Should she produce a son, 
during the minority of that child, upon the event of the 
death of Ferdinand, she would be regent, and thus would 
retain her regal power. Should the king, however, die, 
leaving no heir, Carlos, her implacable foe, would ascend 
the throne, and would exult in driving her back again into 
obscurity.. Christina resolves that Carlos shall not thus 
triumph over her. 

There was a private in the king's guard by the name of 
Munoz. He was the son of a tobacconist in Madrid, and 
entirely uneducated. He was, however, young and hand- 
some ; Ferdinand was old and ugly. The queen fixed her 
eye upon the well-proportioned dragoon, and, following tho 
example of Louisa, made Munoz her Godoy. She received 
him to her entire confidence, and lavished upon him wealth 
and titles of nobility. Great was the excitement through- 



256 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



out Spain when it was announced that an heir to the throne 
was expected. Carlos and his party were in consternation. 
The birth of a son would be the death-blow to all theii 
hopes. Christina and her party exulted, and yet with 
trembling ; for, should the child prove a daughter, the crown 
would still descend to Carlos. As, by the law of Spain, 
the crown could only be transmitted to male heirs, there 
was still a chance left for the Carlists. 

While such was the posture of affairs, and all Spain was 
impatiently awaiting the issue, the political world at Mad- 
rid was suddenly electrilied by the publication of a decree, 
in which the old law, limiting the succession to a male 
heir, was abrogated by an edict from the government, and 
the crown declared capable of descending to a daughter as 
well as to a son. The object of this edict was at once evi- 
dent, as it effectually excluded Carlos from the throne. 
The Carlists, by this act, were roused to frenzy. They 
denied the right of the king to change an old and established 
law of the realm for the sake of keeping the crown in his 
own immediate family at the expense of the rights of an- 
other. They declared that they would deluge the kingdom 
in the blood of a civil war before they would submit to such 
a usurpation of power. The murmur of the rising tem- 
pest echoed along the base of the Pyrenees, and among the 
fastnesses of the Sierra iMorena. Both parties were stimu- 
lated to more vigorous preparations for the approaching con- 
flict by tlie announcement, on the 10th of October, 1830, 
that a daughter was born to the queen. This child was 
Isabella, the present Queen of Spain. 

Ferdinand still lived, though tremblmg upon the borders 
of the grave. He appointed, upon the event of his death, 



ISABELLA n. 257 



Christina as regent during the minority of the infant queen. 
Christina marshaled her troops and strengthened her for- 
tresses to defend her own and her daughter's contested 
claims. The Carlists also gathered their strength to seize 
the crown, and place it upon the head of Carlos as soon as 
it should fall from the brow of the dying Ferdinand. Thus, 
through all the provinces of Spain, the clangor of arms was 
heard ; and father and mother, brother and sister, arrayed 
themselves on different sides, in anticipation of the ap- 
proaching conflict. A few months of intense and ever-in- 
creasing excitement thus passed away, when it was an- 
nounced that the queen was again soon to become a mother. 
Hope upon the one side, and fear upon the other, again 
agitated every bosom in Spain. The birth of a son alone 
could save the nation from all the horrors of a civil war. 
Then Carlos would have no shadow of a claim to the 
throne. Now his claim was unquestionably as good as that 
of Isabella. An unprejudiced judge would probably decide 
in his favor. Soon, however, the birth of another daughter, 
Louisa, left the conflicting claims between Carlos and the 
infant Isabella unchanged. Neither party, however, could 
do any thing decisive to maintain their supposed rights to 
the crown while Ferdinand lived. Carlos, therefore, with 
his immediate family, withdrew to a castle in Portugal, 
where he impatiently awaited the death of his brother. 
His partisans, and those of Christina, were busy, in all 
parts of Spain, secretly making preparation for the strife 
which all saw to be inevitable. 

When Isabella was three years of age, Ferdinand, to 
give additional strength to her claim, assembled the Cortes 
to take the oath of allegiance to her as their future sover- 

Y2 



258 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



eign. Those who were favorable to the claims of Carlos, 
of course, refused to heed the summons. The ceremony 
was fixed for the 20th of June, 1803. Madrid, for many 
years, had witnessed no festival so brilliant and imposing. 
The vast Plaza Mayor, in the capital, had been prepared 
for a magnificent hidl-fight in honor of the occasion. The 
ancient forms, and customs, and costume of the nation were 
scrupulously revived. The Spanish grandees exhibited 
themselves with every possible display of pomp and ostenta- 
tion, and the city was resplendent with gorgeous equipages, 
and satin robes, and nodding plumes. Night overtook the 
vast assemblage in the midst of their festivities, when, sud- 
denly, the flash of millions of torches, illuminating every 
dwelling and every spire, threw noon-day light upon the 
carousing multitiide. The pale and feeble Isabella gazed 
with childish wonder upon this scene of barbaric enchant- 
ment. As she listened to the oaths of allegiance which rent 
the skies when she was presented as the future Queen of 
Spain, little did she imagine the oceans of blood with which 
the nation was, in consequence, to be deluged, and the woes 
with which her own heart was to be lacerated. Upon this 
scene Carlos and his adherents gazed in sullen silence, 
biding their time. 

At last the dying hour of Ferdinand came, presenting 
such a scene as has rarely, if ever before, been presented on 
earth. In the interior of the palace, on the royal couch, lay, 
moaning and paralyzed, the dying king. All the appliances 
of opulence embellished the regal apartment ; but haggard 
death was there, pronouncing its sentence of vanity and 
mockery upon all terrestrial splendor. A wretched life had 
arrived at its most mournful termination. The pitiable old 



ISABELLA IL 259 



man, old in infirmity and vice, tortured by pain, and lashed 
by an avenging conscience, trembled as he approached the 
dread tribunal of his Judge. Angry disputants surrounded 
the pillow of death, and the groans of the dying were 
drowned by the vociferation of enraged relatives. The 
crown was falling from the brow of Ferdinand, and his death- 
struggles were unheeded, as those around him eagerly grasp- 
ed at the glittering prize. As the storm swells into the loud- 
er and more vehement language of vituperation and abuse, 
the king, bewildered by the unearthly clamor, turns upon 
his thorny bed, and groans with inexpressible agony. The 
exasperated disputants, totally regardless of the dying mon- 
arch, seize each other by the collar and by the hair. Oaths 
are voUied forth, blows interchanged, and knives gleam 
over the bed of death. In the fierce struggle, they reel to 
and fro through the room, and stagger against the couch, 
and almost upon the body of the dying king. The noise 
of the clamor penetrates the most distant apartments of 
the palace, and others are collected to mingle in the fray. 
The robust child, Louisa, is declared by an eye-witness to 
have come rushing from the nursery, and, seeing one of her 
favorites discomfited by a more powerful assailant, with 
puny fist, but with more formidable tooth and nail, to have 
played a conspicuous part in the peril of the fray. At 
length the combatants are separated, and, furious, almost 
foaming with rage, leave the death-chamber. The expiring 
monarch apparently falls asleep. Some one goes to awake 
him. Ferdinand is dead. O ! how much is there in that 
one word Dead ! What awful visions rise of judgment, 
eternity, and retribution. Such was death in the palace. 
The mind shrinks back appalled from following the career 



250 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



of such a spirit amid the self-enveloping gloom with which 
it enters upon futurity. 

The death of Ferdinand was the signal for the grasping 
of arms, and the direful clang and uproar of war. For 
many years the two parties had been preparing for this 
crisis, and now, with most merciless fury, each hurled itself 
upon the other. Spain was about equally divided in favor 
of the claims of Isabella and of Carlos. The flame of civil 
war instantaneously burst forth with most sanguinary vio- 
lence all over the Peninsula. Cities were sacked, villages 
burned, and harvests trampled by the rush of armies. All 
industry was paralyzed ; robbery and violence were ram- 
pant, and every stream was crimsoned with blood. All 
Spain was desolated with scenes of unimaginable woe. 
Now the armies of Carlos swept victoriously over a prov- 
ince, and the soldiers glut their appetites and wreak their 
vengeance upon the families adhering to Christina. Again 
the partisans of Isabella gam the ascendency, and with ref- 
luent wave surge back over the blood-deluged and smoul- 
dering plains, retaliating with augmented ferocity upon 
the brothers and the maidens of the supporters of Carlos. 
Bands of robbers, under the guise of guerilla soldiers, prowl 
every where, now calling themselves Carlists and now 
Christinists, and thoy plunder and violate the unprotect- 
ed without discrimination. No home is sacred ; no castle 
affords protection ; no mountain fastness can furnish a hid- 
ing place for person or property. 

At one time the fortune of war decided in favor of Car- 
los, and, with his exulting troops, as King of Spain, he 
marched toward Madrid. The Regent Christina flies in 
dismay and despair. Again the scene changes. By a sue- 



ISABELLA IL 261 



cessful surprise, the intoxicated, rabble band of Carlos was 
dispersed, and he fled, a fugitive among the mountains, 
alone and in disguise, dodging the bullets of his foes as he 
leaped from crag to crag. And now Christina, with vain- 
glorious trumpets and flaunting banners, enters her capital 
in triumph, vaunting the entire demolition of the Carlists. 
But the political kaleidoscope is again turned, and Christi- 
na, burdened with the jewels she has grasped, is seen flee- 
ing over the Pyrenees to take refuge in France. Thus 
for ten or twelve years miserable Spain was surrendered to 
the crimes and woes of civil war. The national spirit was 
transformed into the ferocity of the bloodhound. Pity had 
fled from the hearts of men. The wail of the widow and 
the orphan mingled with the shouts of onset and the cries 
of the dying. Carlos, the fanatic monk, was the represent- 
ative of civil and religious despotism. All the inmates of 
the cloisters rallied around his banner. Austria, Russia, 
and R-ome, the three most terrible despotisms in Europe, 
encouraged his claims. The cause of Isabella was espous- 
ed by those who were the friends of a higher degree of civil 
and religious liberty. They called the Carlists fanatics, 
and were called, in return, atheists and infidels. England 
and France were friendly to the cause of Isabella. For- 
eign governments, however, did not lead their armies into 
the conflict, but left the Spaniards to settle the quarrel 
with their own knives. 

Such were the scenes in the midst of which Isabella's in- 
fancy was nurtured. The clamor of war was the lullaby 
of her cradle. During all these years of strife, the young 
queen dwelt, an unhappy child, in the palaces of Spain, 
asfainst which the storms of civil dissension were incessant- 



262 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

ly and mercilessly beating. The most implacable hostility 
rankled in the bosoms of the different members of the royal 
family. Isabella was soon embroiled in a quarrel with her 
sister Louisa. The mother of Isabella was a selfish and 
unnatural woman, unsusceptible of an emotion of pure af- 
fection for her child, and seeking only her own aggrandize- 
ment and sensual gratification. One half of the nation 
wished the young queen dead. Thus nurtured, hardly a 
pure thought or a kindly emotion was ever excited in her 
heart. Unloving and unbeloved, neither sunrise nor twi- 
light brought one peaceful ray upon the heart of the wretch- 
ed Isabella. Neither the summer morning nor the wmter 
evening brought any joy to the palaces of Spain. 

Her unnatural and abandoned mother had several other 
children, the acknowledged offspring of Munoz, She en- 
deavored to veil the ignominy of their birth by surrounding 
them with the most dazzling splendors of opulence. To do 
this, she robbed the revenues of Spain. To elevate them 
from the stigma which their mother's dishonor reflected 
upon them, Christina even purloined the jewels and strip- 
ped the wardrobe of Isabella. At one time, when Christina 
fled before her enemies into France, she seized every spe- 
cies of property within her reach, and the young queen was 
left absolutely destitute of her necessary clothing. 

Grasping avarice stood out prominently among the innu- 
merable vices of Ferdinand. During his whole reign he 
was feloniously appropriating the revenues of the kingdom 
to his own private purse. He died enormously rich. His 
property, invested in stocks all over the world, was esti- 
mated at forty millions of dollars. Christina probably con- 
trived to destroy the will, as none could be found, and 



ISABELLA IL 263 



adroitly contrived to grasp the property herself. But even 
this vast sum did not satiate that thirst for wealth which, 
once thoroughly roused, never can be assuaged. Christina 
rapidly augmented the sum by a systematic pillage of the 
revenues of her child, the youthful queen. While the 
troops who were fighting her battles were barefooted and 
starving, this shameless wanton turned a deaf ear to their 
sufferings, that she might conceal, under the dazzling ex- 
terior of luxury and splendor, the children resting under 
the stigma of a dishonored birth. These children now ap- 
pear among the grandees of Spain, crowding the courts of 
Isabella. Squandering the almost inexhaustible treasures 
accumulated by Ferdinand's avarice and Christina's pride, 
they revel in more than princely pageantry. Titles of no- 
bility and offices of emolument and influence are conferred 
upon them ; cringing courtiers wait vipon their nod ; and 
the once proud and powerful Castilian nobles condescend to 
court their smiles. 

In the midst of all these scenes of crime, and war, and 
woe, Christina and the courts of Europe were intriguing 
for a husband for the hapless Isabella. England, France, 
and Austria each had a bridegroom to urge upon the pass- 
ive princess ; and yet neither of these powers would con- 
sent that either of the others should have the benefit of such 
an alliance. At last it was decided to compromise the 
question. All abandoned their claims, and they agreed to 
force upon Isabella a husband so weak and impotent that 
none need fear his influence. Francisco, Isabella's young- 
est uncle, had two sons, Enrique and Francisco. The only 
difference between the two was, that while the elder was 
coarse, brutal, energetic^ and unblushing in atheism and 



264 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



vice, the younger was imbecile, silly, and mean in his be- 
sotted temper. Isabella preferred Enrique, if she must 
take one of the two. It was, however, decided that Fran- 
cisco must be her spouse. His imbecile mind, and feeble 
person, and squeaking voice, excited her utter contempt. 
For a time she flatly refused to surrender herself to one 
whom her soul loathed. She wept, she stormed, she de- 
clared that she would sooner die than wed Francisco. 

One night, her unnatural mother and a crafty minister 
took the weeping, agonized child of sixteen into an inner 
chamber of the palace, to constrain her consent. The im- 
perious mother, with her conspiring counselor, first tried 
the efficacy of threats upon the unprotected child. Find- 
ing them unavailing, she turned to entreaties and tears. 
Thus, with expostulations, and solicitations, and menaces, 
the long hours of the night passed away, and day dawned 
upon the pale and tearful cheek of Isabella, before she 
would give her consent to receive the despised Francisco 
for her husband. At last, worn out with exhaustion and 
despair, she resisted no longer, and submitted herself to the 
outrage. Fearing lest she might again summon resolution 
to rebel, the marriage was hastily consummated. But 
hardly was the irrevocable tie formed, before Isabella's re- 
pugnance to her spouse became so absolutely insupportable 
that she could not even endure his presence. Both were 
proud and irascible. They quarreled ; they separated. 
Again they attempted to live near each other ; again the 
total want of congeniality, and invincible disgust on the 
part of Isabella, drove them asunder. Our sympathies 
strongly incline us to represent Isabella as an amiable, pen- 
sive, and gentle child, fading away before the blight of un- 



ISABELLA n. 265 



timely sorrow. Truth, however, compels us to admit that 
she is imperious, irritable, and masculine. She is the child 
of ungovernable passions, and is wrecked, both in body and 
soul, by a life of joylessness. She possesses nothing but 
her sorrows to win our love. How could it be otherwise ? 
Her father was one of the most worthless wretches who 
ever disgraced a throne. Her mother was an intriguing, 
unprincipled, abandoned woman. From infancy, Isabella 
has breathed as polluting a moral atmosphere as it is pos- 
sible for one to inhale. It would, indeed, be a miracle, 
were one, born of such parents and reared in such a home, 
to possess the graces of a refined and lovely spirit. The 
wreck and ruin of her own heart are even more desolating 
and more to be commiserated than the external calamities 
which have enveloped her in glooms which apparently nev- 
er can be dissipated. Isabella has no resources within for 
consolation. &lie never has been, and never can be loved. 
Earth has no heavier doom than this. 

A recent traveler in Spain gives the following account 
of the appearance of the royal family just before the mar- 
riage of Isabella : " This being Sunday, I had an excellent 
opportunity of seeing the royal family of Spain at their de- 
votions. The royal chapel in the palace is open to the 
public, and I entered without question shortly after noon. 
I had not long to wait. The service commenced at one 
o'clock ; and a few moments before that hour, Christina 
and her two daughters, Isabella and Louisa, entered the 
small royal chamber in front of the altar, and immediately 
knelt down to take part in the service. All three were 
dressed in black, and wore nothing on the head but man- 
tillas. Queen Isabella is grown a little taller and much 

Z 



266 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



plumper. In fact, she inclines so much to embonpoint, 
that I should not be surprised if in the course of a few 
years she should rival Donna Maria of Portugal. Ever 
since her infancy, Isabella's gait has partaken a good deal 
of an ungainly waddle, a common failing among the Span- 
ish Bourbons ; and, now that she manifests so strong a ten- 
dency toward corpulency, her dancing is not the most pleas- 
ing spectacle. Thus, at the court ball, when Francisco 
danced with her, she astonished the spectators with some- 
thing like elephantine gambolings. Her face is not im- 
proved, the lower parts presenting a still more marked re- 
semblance to the portraits of Ferdinand VII. Her eyes 
are bright colored and not unpleasing. The contour of her 
face is perfectly round, and, with rather a sharp nose, gives 
her something of the aspect of those physiognomies which 
decorate ancient china tea-cups. The mantilla, however, 
became her well ; I think better than the Parisian bonnet 
and mignon parasol which she sports in her carriage on the 
Prado. Queen Isabella is by no means deficient in abili- 
ties, being endowed with a prodigious memory — with a deal 
of cunning, at least, if not of judgment. She is likewise 
fond of raillery, and has a good deal of sarcastic wit, with 
which she peppers her amanti^ Don Francisco, considera- 
bly. I am assured that, with all her defects, she is high- 
minded and queenly, and has many noble qualities, and I 
trust she may develop them progressively, as she grows 
older, for the welfare and prosperity of Spain. 

" Her sister Louisa does not improve in appearance as 
§he grows up. Her infantine graces have merged some- 
what into coarseness, but she may still be almost regarded 
as beautiful. Her features, like her mother's, are longei 



ISABELLA n. 2C7 



and more Italian than her sister's, and her complexion 
purer. Her grace of attitude and movement is remarka- 
ble, a quality which she inherits exclusively from Christi- 
na. She is certainly a charming young person, and looks 
wonderfully well in her dark crape dress and mantilla. 
She was born on the 30th of January, 1832. Whether 
Montpensier lose the inheritance of Spain or not, he will 
have found in her an enchanting wife, and France a prin- 
cess who will look to advantage even by the side of De 
Joinville's Brazilian beauty. It is commonly reported that 
there is no Bourbon blood in Louisa's veins. She is prob- 
ably the daughter of Montez. 

" Christina, who seemed even to outdo her daughters in 
devotion, and joined in the service with much fervor, is evi- 
dently breaking up. Her face is beginning to wear a 
somewhat haggard expression, and her figure to lose its 
graceful and rounded contour. The unremitting toils of 
intrigue have stolen on her nocturnal hours, and the atmo- 
sphere of political manoeuver, out of which she can not 
exist, has paled the roses which once adorned her cheek, 
and cast a deeper shade upon her brow." 

The masculine character of Isabella's mind is disclosed by 
the amusements in which she chiefly delights. The palace 
of La Granja is her ordinary home. Her mornings are 
spent in equestrian exercises, drives, shooting, and fishing. 
Her evenings are generally devoted to music, of which she 
is very fond. She may often be seen among the foremost 
riders in the stag-hunt, or even pursuing the boar, and she 
is greatly delighted when she succeeds in wounding the 
animal with her own hand. She may often be seen in the 
grand allee of the park, preceded by two soldiers, and fol- 



268 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



lowed by four equerries, dashing by in her phaeton, drawn 
by four beautiful Andalusian ponies, which she guides and 
urges to their most rapid speed with the most perfect cool- 
ness and self-possession. 

An officer of her household was not long ago thrown from 
a very spirited and restive horse, and killed. Isabella or- 
dered the animal to be brought into the court-yard of the 
palace. She mounted him, and rode for some time around 
the yard at all paces, perfectly controlling the high-mettled 
charger. Alighting from his back, she coolly remarked, 
" The animal is well enough. The officer deserved to be 
killed ! he did not know how to ride." 

Isabella's sister, Louisa, was a few months ago married, 
when fourteen years of age, to the Duke of Montpensier, 
the youngest son of Louis Philippe. This marriage pro- 
duced very great excitement throughout Europe, and roused 
the most vigorous, though unavailing, remonstrances on the 
part of England. Should Isabella die childless, Louisa will 
ascend the throne. And thus the son of Louis Philippe will 
be the husband of the queen. Of course, the two kingdoms, 
had not Louis Philippe been ejected from his throne, would 
have been most intimately allied, and the cabinet of Ver- 
sailles would have had great influence in the councils of 
Spain. Indeed, it was more than possible that the crowns 
of the two kingdoms of France and Spain, as in the case of 
Castile and Aragon, would have descended upon one brow. 
This would fearfully destroy the " balance of power" in Eu- 
rope. England was extremely jealous of this influence, and 
Avas ready to wage war with France, rather than have a 
son of Louis Philippe marry the Queen of Spain. Isabella 
would have liked, it is said, that connection. 



ISABELLA n. 269 



The following extract from Blackwood's Magazine will 
show the angry spirit with which England contemplated 
this marriage : " With Louisa less trouble was requisite. 
It needed no great persuasive art to induce a child of four- 
teen to accept a husband as willingly as she would have 
done a doll. Availing himself of the moment when the 
legislative chambers of England, France, and Spain had 
suspended their sittings — although, as regards those of the 
latter country, this mattered little, composed as they are 
of venal hirelings — the French king achieved his grand 
stroke of policy, the project on which, there can be little 
doubt, his eyes had for years been fixed. His load of 
promises and pledges, whether contracted at Eu or else- 
where, encumbered him little. They were a fragile com- 
modity, a brittle merchandise, more for show than use, 
easily hurled down and broken. Striding over their shivered 
fragments, the Napoleon of Peace bore his last unmarried 
son to the goal long marked out by the paternal ambition. 
The consequences of the successful race troubled him little. 
What cared he for offending a powerful ally and personal 
friend. The arch schemer made light of the fury of Spain, 
of the discontent of England, of the opinion of Europe. He 
paused not to reflect how far his Machiavelian policy would 
degrade him in the eyes of many with whom he had pre- 
viously passed for wise and good, as well as shrewd and 
far-sighted. Paramount to these considerations was the 
gratification of his dynastic ambition. For that he broke 
his plighted word, and sacrificed the good understanding 
between the governments of two great countries. The 
monarch of the barricades, the Ptoi Populaire, the chosen 
sovereign of the men of July, at last plainly showed, what 

Z 2 



670 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

some had already suspected, that the aggrandizement of his 
family, not the welfare of France, was the object he chiefly 
coveted. Conviction may later come to him — perhaps it 
has already come — that le jeu ne valoit pas la chandelle, 
the game was not worth the wax-lights consumed in play- 
ing it, and that his present bloodless victory must sooner or 
later have sanguinary results. That this may not be the 
case, we ardently desire ; that it will be, we can not doubt. 
The peace of Europe may not be disturbed — pity that it 
should in such a quarrel — but for poor Spam we foresee, in 
the Montpensier alliance, a gloomy perspective of foreign 
domination and still-recurring revolution. 

" A word or two respecting the king-consort of Spain, 
Don Francisco. We have already intimated that, as a 
Spanish Bourbon, he may pass muster. 'Tis saying very 
little. A more pitiful race than these same Bourbons of 
Spain surely the sun never shone upon. In vain does one 
seek among them a name worthy of respect. What a list 
to cull from ! Tlie feeble and imbecile Charles the Fourth ; 
Ferdinand, the cruel and treacherous, the tyrannical and 
profligate ; Carlos, the bigot and the hypocrite ; Francisco, 
the incapable. Nor is the rising generation an improve- 
ment on the declining one. Certainly Don Francisco is no 
favorable specimen, either physically or morally, of the 
young Bourbon blood. For the sake of the country whose 
queen is his wife, we would gladly think well of him, gladly 
recognize in him qualities worthy of the descendant of a 
line of kings. It is impossible to do so. The evidence is 
too strong the other way. He accepted the hand reluctantly 
placed in his, became a king by title, but remained, what 
he ever must be in reality, a zero." 



ISABELLA IL 271 



The probability, however, now is, that Louisa will soon 
ascend the throne. Isabella looks care-worn and haggard. 
Wretchedness has broken down her constitution, and epi- 
lepsy, one of the most awful diseases to which the human 
frame is subject, is apparently hurrying her to the grave. 
It is now most probable that her sorrowful life will soon be 
terminated by death. Indeed, it is alleged that the minis- 
try of Madrid are on the point of declaring their sovereign 
incompetent to reign, and of recommending to the Cortes 
the regency of Louisa. The kingdom is filled with stories 
of her discreditable demeanor, and of her bickerings with 
her spouse. England has been calling loudly for the queen's 
divorce, hoping that another union may be more success- 
ful, and that heirs of Isabella may yet prevent a son of 
Louis Philippe from being queen-consort. The dethrone- 
ment of Louis Philippe, for the present, allays these fears. 
But monarchy is not yet dead in France. 

The death of Isabella, without issue, would probably be 
the signal not only for the outbreak of civil war in Spain, 
but it might also involve all Europe in hostilities. The 
Carlists would immediately present their claims to the 
throne, sustained by England, Austria, and Russia. Louis 
Philippe, with his armies, would, of course, have sustained 
the cause of Louisa. There is no kingdom of Europe now 
in a state of deeper depression, or whose prospect for the 
future is more gloomy, than that of Spain. What combi- 
nations are to be presented by the new turn recently given 
to the political kaleidoscope, no one can tell. 

And yet, were it not for foreign interference, Spain, un- 
der the nominal reign of Louisa, with the Duke of Mont- 
pcnsier as her counselor, would unquestionably be far bet- 



272 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



ter governed than she has been for many ages. The duke 
is a young man of elevated character and education. He 
has seen much of the world, and, with peculiarly conciliat- 
ing and aftable manners, has great energy of purpose and 
action. He undoubtedly would be able to accomplish much 
toward the redemption of Spain from the degradation into 
which she has fallen. Perhaps the greatest calamity this 
wretched nation has ever experienced was inflicted upon 
her by the armies of England, in driving Joseph Bonaparte 
from tlie throne, and placing in his stead Ferdinand VH. 

The national pride of the Spaniards, however, causes 
many of them to be unwilling to have a Frenchman so near 
the throne, and the desire to preserve the balance of power 
in Europe will induce other nations to combine to support 
the claims of the Carlist party. Louisa must, therefore, 
probably ascend the throne, upon whose step she has al- 
ready placed her foot, over the dead bodies of thousands of 
her countrymen, and perhaps not until after the flames of 
war shall have desolated Europe. 

When Montpensier, about a year ago, on his way from 
Paris to Madrid, arrived on the banks of Bidassoa, ho did 
not think it prudent to adventure himself across the fron- 
tier, upon the territory of Spain, with his unarmed yet 
splendid retinue. Low murmurs had reached his ear of 
threats of assassination. Guerilla bands, with sharpened 
stilettoes, were lurking among the defiles of the mountains. 
The impatient prince looked wistfully over the hazy plains 
of the south, and waited for an escort. Enveloped in an 
armed band of two thousand steel-clad dragoons, the im- 
posing cavalcade swept like a whirlwind over hill and dale. 
Upon his arrival in Madrid a liurried wedding ensued. The 



ISABELLA IL 273 



marriage feast was quickly terminated, and Louisa was 
borne in triumph to Paris. She was there received with 
the warmest congratulations of the royal family. Mont- 
pensier has recently purchased a magnificent palace in 
Madrid, and architects and workmen are now busily em- 
ployed in embellishing it with all the splendors of art. He 
is soon to take up his residence in the capital of Spain, to 
identify himself with the country of his adoption, and to be 
at hand to lead Louisa to the throne as soon as her sister 
falls from it. Probably Louisa longs, with childish ambi- 
tion, to be a queen. But when the crown shall press her 
brow, she may have cause to envy the condition of the 
humblest gipsy who wanders through her realms. There 
is, probably, hardly a mud hovel in Spain, which, during 
the last fifty years, has been the scene of so much wretch- 
edness as the imperial chambers of the Escurial and La 
Granja. 

Isabella has many magnificent mansions among which to 
choose her residence. Her own fortune and the revenues 
of her kingdom enable her to live in a style of great mag- 
nificence. The Escurial is perhaps the most celebrated 
palace in Spam, or on the continent of Europe. It is situ- 
ated among the wild and somber scenery of the old Castil- 
ian mountains, about twenty-two miles from Madrid. This 
enormous palace, seven hundred and forty feet in length, 
by five hundred and eighty feet in breadth, was reared by 
Philip II., in the middle of the sixteenth century, at an ex- 
pense of about fifty millions of dollars. Philip, austere, 
gloomy, and fanatical, selected this wild and gloomy mount- 
ain fastness as the site of his palace, and reared the regal 
mansion in the form of a gridiron, in commemoration of 



274 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

the instrument of the martyrdom of St. Lawrence. The 
embellishments of more modern kings, and the luxuriant 
foliage of trees and shrubbery, have now invested even this 
uncouth order of architecture with a kind of venerable 
beauty. Four towers, at the angles, represent the legs of 
the gridiron. The apartments of the enormous pile espe- 
cially devoted to the residence of the reigning monarch, 
constitute the handle of the gridiron. The Spanish de- 
scription of this structure forms a large quarto volume. It 
is stated that there are eleven thousand doors. This may 
be an exaggeration ; and yet the enormous edifice, with its 
cupola, its domes, its towers, its chapel, library, painting- 
gallery and college, mausoleum, cloisters, regal saloons, 
apartments for domestics and artisans, its parks, gardens, 
walks, and fountains, constitutes almost a city by itself. 
A statue of St. Lawrence is over the grand entrance, with 
a gilt gridiron in his hands. 

Spacious reservoirs, constructed upon the neighboring 
mountains, collect the water, conveyed by aqueducts, to 
supply ninety-two fountains. A very beautiful road, about 
one mile in length, fringed with lofty elms and lindens, is 
the avenue to this magnificent palace ; and a subterranean 
corridor of equal length, arched with stone, connects the ed- 
ifice with the neighboring village. 

Underneath the building is the subterranean chamber 
called the Pantheon, the burying-place of the royal family. 
It is a very magnificent apartment, circular in its form, 
thirty-six feet in diameter, its walls incrusted with the 
most beautiful and highly -polished marble. Here repose 
the moldering remains of the Spanish monarchs. Their 
bodies lie in marble tombs, one above another. A long, 



ISABELLA II. 275 



arched stair-way, lined with polished marble, beautifully 
veined, conducts to this mausoleum, far below the surface 
of the earth. A magnificent chandelier, suspended from 
the ceiling, is lighted upon extraordinary occasions, and 
sheds noon-day brilliance upon this gi'and yet gloomy man- 
sion of the dead. The labor of many years was devoted to 
the construction of this sepulcher. 

For nearly three hundred years the domes and towers 
of this monument of Spanish grandeur and superstition 
have withstood the storms which have swept the summer 
and wrecked the winter's sky. Many generations of kings, 
with their accumulated throng of courtiers, have, like ocean 
tides, ebbed and flowed through these halls. But now the 
Escurial is but a memorial of the past, neglected and for- 
gotten. Two hundred monks, like the spirits of dead ages, 
creep noiselessly through its cloisters, and the pensive mel- 
ody of their matins and vespers float mournfully through 
their deserted halls. Here have been witnessed scenes of 
revelry and scenes of fanaticism — the spirit of sincere 
though misguided piety, and the spirit of reckless and 
heaven-defying crime, such as few earthly abodes have 
ever exhibited. The fountains still throw up their beauti- 
ful jets, but the haughty cavaliers and the high-born maid- 
ens and dames who once thronged them have disappeared, 
and the pensive friar, in sackcloth and hempen girdle, sits 
in solitude upon the moss-grown stone. The blaze of illu- 
minations once gleamed from those windows and corridors, 
and night was turned to day as songs and dances resound- 
ed through hall, and bower, and grove. Now midnight 
comes with midnight's silence, and solitude, and gloom, 
and naught is to be seen but here and there the glimmer 



276 KINGrS AND QUEENS. 

of some faint taper from the cell where the penitent monk 
keeps his painful vigils. The jewelry, and the flaunting 
robes of fashion, and the merry peals which have ushered 
the bridal party, have passed away, and now the convent 
bell but calls world-renouncing, joyless hearts to the hour 
of prayer, or tolls the knell, as, in the shades of night, the 
remains of some departed brother are borne, with twink- 
ling torches and funereal chants, to their burial. Such is 
now the Escurial. And yet how many are there, weary 
of the world, with crushed hearts and dead hopes, who 
would gladly find, in these dim cloisters, a refuge from the 
storms of life. Here soon, beneath this marble canopy, 
the body of the hapless Isabella will molder to the dust. 
May God grant, that when the trump of the archangel 
shall awake her from the long sleep of the grave, she may 
arise to sit upon a more exalted throne, and to wear a 
brighter crown than mortal mind hath ever conceived. 



VICTORIA. 



,n|\i:jr jillipij!!"'" ^ ■ 


0-' V. , 


1 



;|il!!|ii!ii|i];|i lil, 



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III 





Victoria. 



Ti 



HE present Queen of England is one of those happy in- 
dividuals whose tranquil life has presented but few inci- 
dents to gratify that love of the marvelous which so often 
constitutes the charm of biography. It is very seldom that 
one, whose misfortune it is to inherit a throne, meets with 
years so peaceful, so uneventful, as has been the lot of Vic- 
toria. Sunny skies have overarched her, and flowers have 
decked her path, and scarcely has one stormy day yet check- 
ered the scenes of her tranquil pilgrimage. It is a prob- 
lem which can not be solved until the light of another world 
shall illumine our minds, why Victoria and Isabella are led 
through such different paths : the one dwelling in a region 
of purity, and love, and joy, the other surrounded with 
every curse but poverty to embitter existence. 

George III. was the father of fourteen children. His 
oldest son, many years before the death of his father, in 
consequence of the insanity of that venerable king, reigned 
as prince regent. Upon the death of his father, the Prince 
of Wales ascended the throne as George IV. By his mar- 
riage with the unhappy Carolme he had one daughter, his 
only heir. This daughter, the beloved and lamented Char- 
lotte, about one year after her marriage to Prince Leopold, 
now King of Belgium, died, with her infant child. Thus 
the line of George IV. became extinct. 

Upon the death of George, his next brother William as- 
A A 2 281 



KINGS AND QUEENS. 



cended the throne. He was a frank, blunt, honest-hearted 
sailor, whose character had been formed, and whose educa- 
tion had been acquired, on ship-board. William IV. reign- 
ed but a few years, and died also childless ; and thus his 
line became extinct. The crown then would have descend- 
ed to the third brothec, Edward, duke of Kent ; but, about 
eighteen years before the death of William, Edward had 
suddenly died, a few months only after his marriage, leav- 
ing an infant daughter, Alexandrina Victoria, but eight 
months of age, to inherit all the rights and privileges which 
might pertain to him. This little girl was, of course, re- 
garded, during all the reign of William, as the heiress of 
the British throne. She now, universally respected and 
beloved, occupies that throne as Queen Victoria I. 

Edward, the Duke of Kent, was an honest, sincere, 
warm-hearted man, of very simple habits, strongly attach- 
ed to the quiet enjoyments of domestic life, and so republi- 
can in his political tendencies as to incur the displeasure of 
his kingly father. His income was so small, that he was 
often mortified by his inability to sustain that style of liv- 
ing befitting his rank. Many of the young nobility, who 
were necessarily his associates, far surpassed him in equi- 
page and general splendor. Perhaps this necessity for econ- 
omizing contributed to give him those home habits, and 
that reflective and studious turn of mind, which adorned 
his character. He was very benevolent toward the poor, 
and had a heart feelingly alive to all the sorrows of hu- 
manity. He was, consequently, much beloved by his ac- 
quaintances, though not much Icnown. He was, however, 
openly allied with the opposition to his father's government. 

" At a public dinner, the Duke of Kent, in glancing at his 



VICTORIA. 283 

own position, remarked : ' I am a friend of civil and reli- 
gious liberty, all the world over. I am an enemy to all re- 
ligious tests. I am a supporter of a general system of edu- 
cation. All men are my brethren, and I hold that power 
is only delegated for the benefit of the people. These prin- 
ciples are not popular just now ; that is, they do not con- 
duct to place or office. All the members of the royal fam- 
ily do not hold the same principles. For this I do not 
blame them; but we claim for ourselves the right of think- 
ing and acting as we think best, and we proclaim ourselves 
members of his majesty's loyal opposition.' " 

Victoria Maria Louisa, daughter of the Duke of Saxe- 
Coburg, and sister to Leopold, the present King of Belgium, 
became the bride of Edward. The Duke of Saxe-Coburg 
is of one of the most ancient and illustrious families of 
Europe. There are few of the nobility of this world who 
can trace their lineage further back into the obscurity of 
past ages. But " blood in the veins" is not " money in the 
purse," and, unfortunately, this illustrious family is com- 
paratively poor. When Victoria Maria was but sixteen 
years of age, she was married to the Prince of Leinengen. 
He had wealth and rank, was forty-four years of age," and 
had hardly a redeeming quality to compensate for dissolute 
habits and an absolutely hateful mind and heart. This 
union abounded in wretchedness. The young princess, 
sacrificed to this unfeeling debauchee, was soon abandoned 
by her husband to entire neglect, and was rendered the 
victim of his unceasing petulance and cruelty. She thus 
passed many years of unspeakable sorrow. Her gentle 
mmd and affectionate heart were crushed by the magnitude 
of her calamity. Her sorrows, however, were borne with 



584 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



the greatest meekness and submission. Her sweet disposi- 
tion and gentle manners won all hearts except that of her 
uncongenial spouse. He, apparently, was incapable of an 
emotion of generous affection. Fifteen joyless years thus 
lingered away, when she was relieved, by his death, from 
the chains imposed upon her. Great must be those griefs 
which can find, even in the desolations of widowhood, a 
solace. 

The Duke of Kent met this lady, a young widow of 
thirty, and, attracted by her loveliness of person and mind, 
and by her congeniality of taste, sought her for his bride. 
They were married two years after the death of her first 
husband. She came to England as the Duchess of Kent, 
and found, in a modest competence for persons of such dis- 
tinguished rank, a happy home. A year of great enjoy- 
ment fled on its swiftest wings. The heartless conduct of 
her former spouse had prepared the Duchess of Kent to 
appreciate the domestic habits, and warm affections, and 
literary tastes of her second husband. On the 29th of May, 
1819, their mutual happiness was greatly increased by the 
birth of a daughter, Alexandrina Victoria, the present Queen 
of England. This child was immediately recognized as the 
heiress to the throne of England. Of course, her birth add- 
ed still more to the public importance of her parents. J ust 
eight months after the birth of Victoria, her father was sud- 
denly taken sick, and died in less than two years from the 
period of his marriage. The Duchess of Kent watched with 
the most intense anxiety and alTection around the couch of 
her husband, and, when he breathed his last, the blow was 
so severe that it was for some time doubted whether she 
would long survive the dreadful shock. A few hours of 



VICTORIA. 285 

sunshine had illumined her darkened path, and now the 
gloom of midnight again settled around her. A committee 
from the House of Commons was deputed to present an ad- 
dress of condolence to the bereaved widow. The duchess, 
holding the infant Victoria in her arms, with weeping eyes 
and a bursting heart, met the deputation. All cheeks 
were bedewed with tears as she mournfully presented to 
them the smiling but unconscious babe as their future 
sovereign, and assured them of her determination to conse- 
crate all her energies to prepare her child for the distin- 
guished situation she was destined to fill. 

It is a little remarkable, that when Victoria was born, 
though George III. had six sons, and most of them some- 
what advanced in life, no one of them had a child. Char- 
lotte, the only daughter of the Prince of Wales, had died 
two years before the birth of Victoria. The eyes, conse- 
quently, of all England were directed to this princess, and 
much solicitude was felt and expressed that her moral, in- 
tellectual, and pliysical education should be properly se- 
cured. Great was the excitement produced when it was 
stated that the nursery windows of the royal child had been 
broken by shot from the guns of some boys who were shoot- 
ing birds near the royal residence, and that the shot passed 
directly over the head of the princess. It was, indeed, a 
narrow escape, and shows how futile are all earthly precau- 
tions unless there is the interposition of a higher hand than 
that of man. 

The Duchess of Kent was a very intelligent and superior 
woman. She did not seclude the royal infant from the ob- 
servation of the public, but accustomed her to walks and 
rides where she could be seen, and where she would see the 



2m KINGS AND QUEENS. 



common people. Much attention was paid to her physical 
culture, that, with a vigorous constitution, she might be 
prepared to encounter the trials to which all, whatever may 
be their lot, must be subjected. She was, in her early 
years, a frail and delicate child, but extremely active in 
her liabits, of a joyous temperament, fond of all sports and 
games, and of an inquiring mind. She was not educated 
as a petted favorite, but was inured to hard study, exposed 
to fatigue, and habituated to constant industry. 

She early evinced a taste for the beauties and sublimi- 
ties of nature, a taste which she still cherishes and culti- 
vates. On one occasion, when too young to express her 
ideas in words, she called her uncle Clarence to the win- 
dow to share with her the exuberant joy she felt in witness- 
ing a beautiful sunset scene. 

Other anecdotes were related of her, which were read 
with much avidity by the English public, and which show 
that she was a sprightly and interesting child. She was 
once with her mother making a visit to Wentworth House. 
The party were strolling through the beautiful gardens, 
admiring the shrubbery and the flowers. The active little 
princess was running in advance of the rest, in very sport- 
ive mood, when the gardener cautioned her not to go down 
a particular walk. " The ground is damp and slape,^^ said 
the gardener. " Slape ! slape !" with great volubility, inquir- 
ed the little princess ; " and, pray, what is slape?" " Very 
slippery, miss — your royal highness, ma'am," replied the 
gardener. " Oh ! that's all," she rejoined ; and, quite re- 
gardless of the caution, she went skipping over the treach- 
erous descent. She had not, however, proceeded far, be- 
fore her feet slipped from under her, and she rolled down 



VICTORIA. Q8r 

the declivity. She rose from her fall w^ith a sadly-soiled 
frock, and not a little abashed by the mishap. The no- 
ble owner of the grounds, being at but a short distance from 
the party, had observed the whole occurrence, and, perceiv- 
ing that Victoria was not injured at all by the accident, 
laughed most heartily, and exclaimed, " Now your royal 
highness has received an explanation of the word slape both 
theoretically and practically." " Indeed I have, my lord," 
rejoined the good-natured princess ; " and I think that I 
shall never forget the meaning of the word slape^ 

It is related of her, that when she first commenced tak- 
ing lessons upon the piano-forte, she was very weary of the 
monotonous hours which she was under the necessity of 
devoting to fuigering and at the gamut. She was inform- 
ed that all her future success in that delightful accomplish- 
ment depended upon being perfect mistress of her piano. 

" Oh I I am to be mistress of my piano, am I ?" asked 
the ingenuous girl. To which inquiry it was replied, "Un- 
doubtedly." 

" Then what would you think of me if I became mistress 
at once ?" continued the princess. 

" That would be impossible. There is no royal road to 
music. Experience and great practice are essential." 

" Oh ! there is no royal road to music, eh ? No royal 
road ? And I am not mistress of my piano-forte ? But I 
will be, I assure you ; and the royal road is this !" at the 
same moment closing her piano, locking it, and taking the 
key. " There I that's being mistress of the piano ! and the 
royal road to learn is, never to take a lesson till you're in 
the humor to do it." 

Those present laughed heartily, and in a fe^ . ip^ 
the lesson was resumed. 



288 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



On another occasion, when on a visit at Bushey Park, 
her royal highness was cautioned that a dog which she was 
fond of caressing could not always be relied on, and that 
his temper was most uncertain. Confiding in her charac- 
ter, and attached to dumb animals, she continued to show 
him kindness ; but Growler at length forgot his good man- 
ners, and made a snap at the princess's hand. The person 
who had cautioned her was on the spot at the time, and 
looked with anxiety to know the result. 

" Oh ! thank you, thank you," said the princess ; " you 
are right, and I am wrong. But he did not bite me ; he 
only warned me. I shall be careful in future." 

These anecdotes, though possessing no special interest, 
exhibit the youthful queen in the pleasing light of an ami- 
able, intelligent, and sprightly child. 

Though Victoria was the heiress of the most powerful 
throne upon earth, her mother had quite a small income 
for one of her rank. By her marriage with the Duke of 
Kent, she had forfeited an income of about twenty thousand 
dollars a year, which she had previously received in Ger- 
many. Parliament had conferred, however, upon the new- 
ly-married couple a grant of about thirty thousand dollars 
per annum. This was a very small sum to meet the ex- 
penditures of a ducal family, intrusted with the education 
of the heiress to the throne. For the first five years of her 
life Victoria was intrusted almost entirely to the tuition of 
professors from Germany. There was a little disposition 
to complain of this ; but it was remembered that the anx- 
ious mother was a German, and but imperfectly acquaint- 
ed with the English language, and that she was anxious 
to nnderftand herself all the instructions which were to be 



VICTORIA. 289 



communicated to her child. English and German are to 
Victoria vernacular tongues. 

When Victoria was five years of age, her uncle Leopold 
gave a very brilliant breakfast at Marlborough House, in 
honor of the young princess. Many members of the royal 
family were present, and other distinguished guests ; and 
Victoria, by her simple and unaffected demeanor, and her 
manifestation of deep attachment to her mother, won all 
hearts. There was, of course, great danger that the vani- 
ty of a child so young would be excited by so much atten- 
tion. "It is not v/ow," said the duchess, " but your future 
office and rank, which are regarded by the country, and you 
must so act as never to bring that office and that rank into 
disgrace or disrespect." 

It has been before mentioned that the Duke of Kent was 
a very estimable man, sincerely benevolent, and desirous of 
promoting the welfare of all. After his death a statue 
was erected to his memory at the top of Portland Place. 
Victoria was taken by her mother to see the statue, and 
she took the occasion to impress upon the mind of her 
child that this statue was erected in honor of her father, 
not merely in consequence of his rank, but because he was 
a useful and good man, was kind to the poor, and that he 
took great interest in estabUshing schools, that all children 
might be educated ; that he aided in founding hospitals for 
the sick, and pitied and tried to reform the vicious. 

It is not surprising that, under the guidance of so judi- 
cious a mother, Victoria should have developed a very mod- 
est and lovely character. She was as artless and unaffect- 
ed, apparently, as any child. Victoria beuig now six 
years of age, it was deemed important that she should be 



290 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



invested with more of that pomp and splendor deemed in 
Europe so essential to royalty. Lord Liverpool conse- 
quently presented a motion to Parliament, that, to meet 
these additional expenses, thirty thousand dollars be added 
to the annual income of the Duchess of Kent. The grant 
passed both houses with but httle opposition. 

Ramsgate, a celebrated place for sea-bathing, was a fa- 
vorite place of resort for the Duchess of Kent and her child. 
The following interesting account is given by an eye-wit- 
ness of her appearance upon the beach when about five 
years of age. " When first I saw the pale and pretty 
daughter of the Duke of Kent, she was fatherless. Her 
fair, light form was sporting, in all the redolence of youth 
and health, on the noble sands of old Ramsgate. It was a 
fine summer's day, not so w^arm as to induce languor, but 
yet warm enough to render the fannmg breezes from the 
laughing tides, as they broke gently on the sands, agreea- 
ble and refreshing. Her dress was simple : a plain straw 
bonnet, with a white ribbon around the crown, a colored 
muslin frock, looking gay and cheerful, and as pretty a pair 
of shoes on as pretty a pair of feet as I ever remember to 
have seen, from China to Kamschatka. Her mother was 
her companion, and a venerable man, whose name is grav- 
en on every human heart that loves its species, and whose 
undying fame is recorded in that Eternal Book where the 
actions of men are WTitten with the pen of truth, walked 
by her parent's side, and doubtless gave those counsels 
and afforded that advice which none were more able to of- 
fer than himself, for it was William Wilberforce. 

" Yes, there he w^as — he, the mighty moral combatant of 
that now crushed giant. Slavery ! who had fought so nobly 



VICTORIA. 291 

and so well for the great principle that no man had a right, 
either real or imaginary, to the person and being of another 
man. Ah ! never shall I forget with what irresistible force 
those lines recurred to my mind as I gazed on the diminu- 
tive and trembling form of that moral Hercules ; 

" ' Wei-e I so tall to reach the poles, 
Or grasp the ocean with a span, 
I would be measured by my soul — 
The mind's the standard of the man.' 

Yes, the mind, unchained, unfettered, unenslaved — the 
mind, immortal as the Being from which it sprang, and as 
immortal as the state of existence to which it is destined — 
' the mind's the standard of the man.' And what a mind 
was there before me ! Wilberforce was not simply the be- 
nevolent, the virtuous, and the pious, but he was a great 
man, with a great mind, occupied about great interests, 
large and vast questions, and devoted to the glorious mis- 
sion of raising his fellow-men, in all countries and climes, 
from degradation, misery, brutality, and bondage. 

" Mr.Wilberforce looked, on that day, all benevolence ; and 
when did he look otherwise ? never, but when the wrongs 
of humanity made his fine heart bleed, and caused the flush 
of honest indignation to mantle his pale forehead. His 
kindling eye followed with parental interest every footstep 
of the young creature as she advanced to and then retreated 
from the coming tide ; and it was evident that his mind 
and his heart were full of the future while they were inter- 
ested in the present. ' There is, probably, the future mon- 
arch of an empire, on whose dominion the great orb of day 
never sets,' was a thought which was evidently depicted on 
his face as he pointed to the little dancing queen, who was 



292 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



much amused at getting her shoes wet in a breaker which 
had advanced further and with more rapidity than she ex- 
pected. The Duchess of Kent waved her hand, and Victo- 
ria, obedient to the signal, did not again risk the dangers 
arising from damp feet. 

" The scene was interesting. The old veteran in the cause 
of humanity and truth placed between his hands the little 
fingers of the blooming girl of five years of age, and some- 
thing was then said which I would have given a great deal 
to have heard, which caused the blue eyes of our now be- 
loved queen to stare most fixedly at her venerable instruc- 
tor, while her devoted mother looked alternately at both, 
evidently interested and affected by the contrast. No doubt 
some monitory, touching, truthful words had fallen from 
the lips of Mr. Wilberforce ; and it may be that from that 
sacred moment she dated her first abhorrence of the prin- 
ciples and practice of slavery. Thus the little party I have 
described advanced to the edge of the tide ; and the eman- 
cipator of the negro and black population of the world con- 
descended to the trifle of watching the encroachments of 
each new breaker, and the tact of a Newfoundland dog, 
who exhibited his skill in bringing safe to shore some sticks 
which were thrown at great distances into the sea, that he 
might swim after them. It was in this way that an hour 
was spent. 

"I had known ]Mr. Wilberforce more in public than in 
private life, though I had visited him at his quiet residence 
at Broiupton, and always found him accessible and kind. 
But I had the prudence not to intrude upon him on this oc- 
casion, and I was simply a spectator. The duchess was 
earnest in her manner during the great portion of that hour, 



VICTORIA. 293 



and seemed much delighted when Mr, Wilberforce jfixed the 
attention of her darling daughter by some sentences he pro- 
nounced in her hearing. I am quite satisfied they related 
to slavery. His attitude, his movements, his solemnity, 
and the fixed eye and the deeply-mournful face of his 
charmmg young pvipil, convinced me of that. I think he 
described to her a young slave girl torn from her parents, 
consigned to a slave ship, delivered up to a cruel and inhu- 
man trafficker in flesh, and subjected to the lash, and to 
misery, tears, and groans, ere her heart should have even 
known what sorrow and anguish were. But the hour soon 
flitted away. The ducliess and her daughter retvirned to 
their modest and unpretending dwelling, and Mr. Wilber- 
force, joined by some friend, walked quietly on the pier. 

" The favorite bathing- woman of the Princess Victoria 
appeared, as the party retired, to smile and courtesy, and 
to receive the nod of youthful recognition on the part of her 
royal highness, who asked some little question about the 
best hour to bathe the next morning. I kept my distance, 
but followed the duchess and my now queen toward her 
abode, and I observed with delight the freedom from affec- 
tation and restraint in which the daughter was educated by 
her royal mother. The town's people and the visitors were 
respectful in their manner, and the young Victoria was 
courteous, yet lively. She was just the light, gay being 
she ought to have been at such an age, and under all the 
circumstances of her rank and prospects ; and she even then 
knew that which her recent visits to the nobility of England 
have distinctly proved she continues to feel, that the mon- 
archy of Great Britain is limited, constitutional, and popular. 

" And let not the vmobservant man, who notices not the 
Bb2 



294 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

daily and. hourly meanderings of the youthful mind, until it 
becomes vast and majestic in maturer years, smile at this 
statement of the early sentiments of Queen Victoria. Edu- 
cation does not commence with the alphabet. It begins 
with a mother's look, with a father's nod of approbation, or 
a sigh of reproof ; with a sister's gentle pressure of the hand, 
or a brother's noble act of forbearance ; with handfuls of 
flowers in green and daisy meadows ; with birds'-nests ad- 
mired, but not touched ; with creeping ants and almost 
imperceptible emmets ; with humming-bees and glass bee- 
hives ; with pleasant walks in shady lanes ; and with 
thoughts directed, in sweet and kmdly tones and words, to 
nature, to beauty, to acts of benevolence, to deeds of valor 
and of virtue, and to the source of all good — to God himself. 

" Now I believe in my conscience, and I may add that I 
have the best of all reasons for saying so, that the earliest 
years of the young Victoria, her first education, partook of 
this character, and was devoted to such recreations as those 
of which I have been speaking. It was felt by her illus- 
trious mother that the cultivation of the heart was yet of 
more importance than that of tlie mind, and that her daugh- 
ter's tastes should be those which would render her happy, 
as well as ca})acitate her for the most intellectual society, 
and for pronouncing on very interesting and important 
questions. 

" As the princess proceeded up the High-street from the 
sands, there sat, on a low step of a closed shop, an aged 
Irish woman, pale, wan, dejected, sorrowing, her head bent 
forward, and, while all nature was gay, she looked sickly, 
sad, and famishing. Whether she was too depressed to 
beg, or too exhausted at that moment to make the effort, I 



VICTORIA. 295 



can not tell; but she asked for no alms, and even looked 
not at the passers-by. The young princess was attracted 
by her appearance, and spoke to the duchess. ' I thmk 
not,' were the only words I heard from her mother ; and, 
' Oh ! yes, indeed,' was all I could catch of the youthful 
reply. I have no doubt that the duchess thought that the 
old woman was not in need of relief, or would be offended 
by the ofler of alms ; but the princess had looked under her 
bonnet, and gained a better insight into her condition. 
There was a momentary pause ; the Princess Victoria ran 
back a few steps most nimbly, and with a smile of heartfelt 
delight placed some silver in the hands of the old Irish 
woman. Tall and stately was the poor creature, and, as 
she rose slowly, with clasped hands and riveted features, 
she implored the blessing of Heaven on the ' English lady.' 
She little dreamed that that lady would be the future queen 
of these reahns, or that she was a member of that house of 
Brunswick whose illustrious scions have been ever distin- 
guished for their sympathy \vith human suifering, and for 
that charity which is kind and which never faileth. The 
old Irish woman was so taken by surprise by this unexpect- 
ed mark of beneficence on the part of she knew not whom, 
that she turned over her sixpences again and again, thank- 
ed the Virgin, as well as the ' young lady,' a thousand and 
a thousand times, and related to those who stopped to hear 
her exclamations the ' good luck' that had come upon her. 
A few moments more, and we all had separated : the beg- 
gar to her wallet, the duchess and princess to their studies 
and occupations, Mr. Wilberforce to his causeries, and my- 
self to my reflections on the chances and changes of this 
sunny and cloudy world. I can not say au revoir, for in 



296 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



this life we shall certainly never meet again ; but, thank 
Gud! there is a world where pure thoughts and noble souls 
will all form part of one vast stock of happiness and virtue 
—where truth shall be eternal, and bliss unalloyed." 

Victoria's first presentation at court took place upon her 
attaining her twelfth year. The drawing-room of her maj- 
esty, Queen Adelaide, wife of William IV., was decorated 
with a degree of splendor which dazzled the eyes even of 
those who had ever lived in the midst of the most gorgeous 
scenes of courts. Victoria arrived at the palace in state, 
accompanied by her mother and quite a retinue of noble 
ladies. As she stood in the graceful simplicity of childhood 
by the side of her majesty on the throne, she was an object 
of interest and of admiration to all who were present. 
With much self-possession, and yet with the deepest inter- 
est, the young princess gazed upon the bewildering scene 
around her. Splendid presents upon her twelfth birth-day 
were presented her, and, among other things, two beautiful 
ponies, which became great favorites of their royal mis- 
tress. The king and queen also gave a very brilliant juve- 
nile ball in honor of the princess, at which a very large 
number of the children of the nobility were assembled. This 
scene, Victoria has often remarked, was the one which made 
the deepest impression upon lier youthful imagination. 

The Duchess of Northumberland was now appointed 
governess to Victoria, and her education was prosecuted 
with renewed zeal. It was deemed essential for her wel- 
fare that she should be withdrawn from society, and her 
whole time devoted to intellectual and physical culture. 
Some dissatisfaction was expressed that Victoria was no 
longer seen in the brilliant drawing-rooms of the palace ; 



VICTORIA. 297 



but the judicious plan was persevered in. Victoria was 
thoroughly instructed in the history of her own countr' — 
its laws, its literature, its science. There is not a nation 
upon the globe which has a literature more rich in all the 
treasures of poetry, eloquence, and science, than the En- 
glish ; and there is no fashionable folly of the present time 
more glaring than that which consigns so many young la- 
dies of our own country to entire ignorance of the treasures 
of their own mother-tongue, in order that they may acquire 
a few common-place phrases of French. Victoria was to 
be Queen of England, and, first of all, she was to be edu- 
cated as an English woman : to be able to converse grace- 
fully in the English language, to write in her own vernac- 
ular tongue with ease and elegance, and to become famil- 
iar with the works of the poets and philosophers who have 
been the brightest ornaments of humanity. An English 
education is the most important accomplishment of an En- 
glish mind. 

Victoria's education, however, did not stop here. From 
infancy, she spoke and wrote the German language wdth 
equal facility with the English. She also became familiar 
with the French, and was introduced to several other of 
the languages of modern Europe. In Latin she also made 
such proficiency as to be able to read Horace with consid- 
erable fluency. She was enthusiastically fond of music, 
and became, upon several instruments, quite an accom- 
plished performer. Much attention was devoted to di-aw- 
ing, and in daily excursions she was taught to sketch from 
nature. There was hardly a romantic rock, or tree, or 
water-fall, a moss-covered tower, or an embowered cottage 
m the vicinity of Kensington, her childhood's happy home, 



298 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



which Victoria had not transferred with her pencil to paper. 
And this pleasure-giving accomplishment still continues to 
be one of the prominent sources of enjoyment to the queen. 

Her physical education was an object of very special at- 
tention. She was accustomed to much exercise in the 
open air, took long walks and rides, and, under the tuition 
of a very celebrated riding-master, became an accomplished 
and even a daring equestrian. Her graceful manners, her 
royal air and demeanor, and the unaffected simplicity of 
her dress and habits, attracted the attention of all who 
were permitted to approach her. In fact, every thing was 
done which the wisdom and the wealth of the nineteenth 
century could contribute, to adorn this maiden with every 
excellence of which human nature is susceptible. She was 
regarded with favorable eyes by the whole nation. It was 
fashionable to speak of our lovely princess ; to regard her 
with a sort of chivalrous homage ; and often was she met 
by fairy-footed maidens, who scattered flowers in her path, 
while gathering thousands greeted her with their acclama- 
tions. 

While engaged in these delightful avocations in the old 
palace of Kensington, and sporting with childish mirthful- 
ness in the lovely gardens surrounding it, the little prin- 
cess had, at times, for a companion and a play-fellow, a 
young cousin Albert from Germany. Little Albert gath- 
ered flowers for his fair cousin ; with her trundled the hoop, 
and played at " tag" among the shrubbery of the graveled 
walks. He was a handsome and a noble-hearted boy. 
The playmates loved each other as cousins, and soon far 
better. Happy Victoria ! to find in a court a heart I 
These were the sunny hours of a morning whose day has 



VICTORIA. 299 



not yet been clouded. And when the hour came for Vic- 
toria to leave the old palace gate of the dear home she had 
loved so well, and to enter upon the more stately and os- 
tentatious splendors of Buckingham House, and St. James 
Palace, and Windsor Castle, tears of regret flooded her 
eyes ; and sobbing almost convulsively, she was unmind- 
ful of the brilliant future in the retrospect of joys which 
had departed forever. 

The old palace of Kensington, endeared to Victoria by 
all the scenes of her happy childhood, she still cherishes 
with the fondest affection. The years which were passed 
in the midst of the beautiful scenery and luxurious adorn- 
ments of that favored home, were perhaps as blissful as 
childhood ever enjoyed. Wealth had lavished its resources 
in embellishing the gardens which surrounded the palace. 
Flowers and shrubbery bloomed m every direction. Ser- 
pentine walks invited the steps to bowers, and groves, and 
sheets of water of enchanting loveliness. There she first 
took the hand and won the heart of the ingenuous boy who 
is now her much-loved husband. There a mother's love 
watched over her and guided her. There her affections 
and the powers of her mind were developed by judicious 
teachers. She was surrounded with every thing which 
wealth, love, and rank could contribute to promote her hap- 
piness. And there she first heard the cry which must have 
produced such a bewilderment of delight in her youthful 
ears, " Long live Victoria !" It was not a weakness — it 
was strength of heart — which caused the tears to flow as 
Victoria left that happy abode. Napoleon, when he bade 
adieu to his Guard in the court-yard of the palace of Fon- 



300 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



tainebleau — the Guard, endeared to him by such long-tried 
fidelity — wept like a child. 

On the 29th of May, 1837, Victoria attained her legal 
majority. She was then eighteen years of age. The day 
was ushered in by merry peals of congratulation ; and the 
highest dignitaries of the land, and the embassadors and 
representatives of foreign courts, thronged the saloons of 
Victoria to do homage to the future Queen of Great Brit- 
ain, There also appeared her slender and handsome cousin 
Albert, with throbbing heart, to do double homage to her 
M^ho was doubly his queen. Albert was also then eighteen 
years of age. We love to see, in courts or out of courts, 
these youthful attachments ripening into the union of con- 
genial hearts. There is so much of prose in this poor 
world, that a little of romance lends to life many additional 
charms. The festivities with which this occasion was 
celebrated were in the style of the utmost splendor. St. 
James's Palace had never witnessed scenes of greater mag- 
nificence, and the impression produced upon the minds of 
all who were present was one never to be forgotten. 

Scarcely had these scenes of rejoicing terminated, and 
Victoria had but just returned to the tranquil sphere of her 
ordinary life, when her uncle, the reigning king, William 
IV., was suddenly taken sick, and died on the 20th of June, 
1837. At five o'clock in the morning, the Archbishop of 
Canterbury, with others of the nobility, arrived at the pal- 
ace of Kensington to cominunicate to Victoria the important 
ticUngs which constituted her Queen of England. Lord 
Melbourne, Lord Brougham, and Mr. Bathurst, speaker of 
the House of Commons, soon followed ; the lord-mayor of 
London, and the city marshals, hastened in their track, all 



VICTORIA. 301 

anxious, as in duty bound, to recognize their youthful sov- 
ereign. That very morning, in the palace of Kensington. 
Victoria held her first privy council. More than one hund- 
red of the highest dignitaries of the realm were present. It 
was a scene, in its imposing character, such as has rarely 
been witnessed. " Painting has depicted it, poetry has de- 
scribed it, and history will record it ; but neither painting, 
poetry, nor history can do it justice." In the midst of the 
scarred veterans of war, gray-haired statesmen, judges of 
the courts, dignitaries of the Church, and chancellors of the 
universities, stood this youthful maiden, with an eye moist- 
ened with tears, in view of the death of her beloved uncle 
the king, and with a heart throbbing with emotion, as she 
felt the responsibilities thus suddenly thrown upon her. All 
eyes were riveted upon the fragile and fairy form, the pale 
and pensive countenance of the modest girl, as she ap- 
peared before them, graceful and queenly, in her childhke 
loveliness. And when the herald announced, "We pub- 
lish and proclaim that the high and mighty princess, Alex- 
andrma Victoria, is the only lawful and rightful liege lady, 
and, by the grace of God, Queen of the United Kingdom 
of Great Britain and Ireland, defender of the faith," the 
timid and lovely maiden, overwhelmed by the scene, threw 
herself into her mother's arms, and wept with uncontrol- 
lable emotion. Her favorite uncle, the Duke of Sussex, 
drew near to her, and, falling upon his knee, took her royal 
hand to kiss it, and to take the oath of allegiance to his new 
sovereign. Victoria again burst into tears, and, throwing 
her arms around his neck, imprinted a kiss upon his cheek, 
and sobbed out, " Do not kneel to me, my uncle. Am I 

Co 



302 KINGS AND QUEENS. 

not still Victoria, your niece." All in the room were 
wholly overcome by this touching scene. 

We next meet Victoria in the- drawing-room of the palace 
of her ancestors, the universally-recognized Queen of En- 
gland. She was surrounded with the most chivalrous 
enthusiasm. Her youth, her beauty, her gentleness, her 
amiability, made her the idol of the young and of the old, 
and the willing homage of all hearts was yielded to her. It 
was so romantic to have this " fairie little lassie" for a 
queen, that all England surrendered itself to the most po- 
etic gallantry. It became the fashion to adore her. All 
praise was lavished upon her person, mind, and heart. This 
first drawing-room scene of the queen was a spectacle of 
the most dazzling splendor. All that England could con- 
tribute of the illustrious in wealth, rank, and dignity, were 
there assembled to gaze upon and revolve around this fragile 
child. The potentates of Europe had sent their embassa- 
dors, and the thrones of Asia were represented in barbarian 
pomp, to do homage to the maiden queen. The mustached 
Turk and turbaned Persian moved with the glittering throng 
through the saloons of Buckingham House. The enthusiasm 
of the scene neither pen nor pencil can depict. 

In the midst of such bewildering scenes, almost realizing 
the creations of Eastern story, a few days of unprecedented 
excitement and novelty passed away, when it became neces- 
sary for the young queen, in person, to prorogue the Parlia- 
ment of her realms. It was the 17th of July, not one month 
from the time when she had been rambling, a girl, free from 
care, in the gardens of Kensington. She entered her car- 
riage, doubtless with a throbbing heart, to drive to the House 
of Lords. Her mother and other friends accompanied her. 



VICTORIA. 303 

The roar of cannon, the shouts of the populace, and the 
merry peal of bells, accompanied Victoria to the House of 
Lords. It was her first public act as a sovereign. The 
novelty of the occurrence had gathered the whole peerage 
of England, and the most illustrious from the courts of the 
Continent. Her mother was breathless with anxiety for 
her timid child, and all who loved Victoria best trembled 
with solicitude lest her fortitude should fail her. 

As Victoria entered the presence of the most august as- 
semblage of the world, the vast apartment was thronged 
with statesmen, nobles, and embassadors from foreign courts. 
Every eye was riveted upon her as she ascended the throne ; 
not with the tall, commanding figure of Queen Elizabeth, 
but as a gentle, sylph-like girl — even more youthful in ap- 
pearance than in years — to win all hearts to sympathy, and 
tenderness, and love. The room was hushed to almost per- 
fect silence as the clear and silvery tones of that almost 
infantile voice fell distinctly upon every ear in uttering the 
speech of prorogation. Her self-possession, and the grace- 
ful modesty of her appearance on this occasion, attracted 
universal applause. 

The morning of the coronation at length arrived. The 
attention of all the courts of Europe was directed to the 
imposing pageant. Westminster Abbey, to receive En- 
gland's youthful sovereign, was decked in gorgeous attrac- 
tions, such as even that venerable pile had never displayed 
before. The rank and beauty of England and of the Con- 
tinent were there congregated, glittering in diamonds, and 
gems of every hue. The queen, advancing toward the al- 
tar, with royal robe and golden diadem, knelt, and fervently 
implored Divine guidance. The Archbishop of Canterbury 



,J04 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



then proclaimed aloud, " I here present unto you Queen 
Victoria, the undoubted queen of this realm ; wherefore all 
you who are come this day to do her homage, are you will- 
ing to do the same ?" A confused murmur of assent rose 
from the assembled multitude. The queen then partook 
of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, an essential part of 
this gorgeous ceremony ; and when those aisles and fretted 
arches resounded with the peal of the organ, as it gave ut- 
terance to the sublime anthem, " Come, Holy Ghost, our 
souls inspire," there were few, among the thousands who 
crowded the Abbey, who were not affected even to tears. 
And as the venerable archbishop placed the crown of En- 
gland upon the youthful brow of Victoria I., shouts of " God 
save the queen !" rose simultaneously from every lip. 

But a few more days passed away, when the queen as- 
sembled her counselors around her, the venerable, the no- 
ble, and the sage, and announced to them her intention to 
ally herself in marriage to the Prince Albert of Saxe-Co- 
burg. "Deeply impressed," said the queen, "with the so- 
lemnity of the engagement I am about to contract, I have 
not come to this decision without mature consideration, nor 
without feeling a strong assurance that, with the blessing 
of Almighty God, it will at once secure my domestic felici- 
ty, and subserve to the interests of my crown and people." 
The nation approved of the match, and two youthful hearts, 
drawn together, amid the splendors of a palace, by mutual 
love, were united in the most sacred and delightful of ties. 
Such espousals seldom occur in the frigid regions of a court. 
This union has been highly promotive of the happiness of 
the illustrious pair. They are both respected and beloved, 
and dwell together in a spirit of harmony and affection 



VICTORIA. 305 



which is rarely experienced by those whose misfortune it is 
to dwell in the cold and cheerless regions of elevated rank 
and power. 

Victoria, since her accession to the throne, has often giv- 
en evidence of the strength of principle by which she is gov- 
erned. The following anecdote illustrates the devout re- 
gard she entertains for the sacredness of the Christian Sab- 
bath. Soon after she ascended the throne, at a late hour 
on one Saturday night, a nobleman, occupying an impor- 
tant post in the government, arrived at Windsor with some 
state papers. " I have brought," said he, " for your majes- 
ty's inspection, some documents of great importance ; but, 
as I shall be obliged to trouble you to examine them in de- 
tail, I will not encroach upon the time of your majesty to- 
night, but will request your attention to-morrow morning." 
" To-morrow morning!" repeated the queen; "to-morrow 
is Sunday, my lord." " True, your majesty ; but business 
of the state will not admit of delay." " I am aware of 
that," replied the queen ; " and as, of course, your lordship 
could not have arrived earlier at the palace to-night, I will, 
if those papers are of such pressing importance, attend to 
their contents after church to-morrow morning." In the 
morning the queen and her court went to church, and, 
much to the surprise of the noble lord, the subject of the 
discourse was on the sacredness of the Christian Sabbath. 
" How did your lordship like the sermon ?" asked the 
queen. "Very much indeed, your majesty," replied the 
nobleman. "Well, then," added her majesty, "I will not 
conceal from you that, last night, I sent the clergyman the 
text from which he preached. I hope we shall all be im- 
proved by the sermon." Not another word was said about 

C 2 



306 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



the state papers during the clay, but at night, when Vic- 
toria was about to withdraw, she said, " To-morrow morn- 
ing, my lord, at any hour you please — as early as seven, if 
you like — we will look into the papers." " I can not think," 
was the reply, "of intruding upon your majesty at so early 
an hour ; nine o'clock will be quite early enough." " No, 
no, my lord ; as the papers are of importance, I wish them 
to be attended to very early. However, if you wish it to 
be nine, be it so." At nine o'clock the next morning the 
queen was seated at her table, ready to receive the noble- 
man and his papers. 

It has before been stated that the income of the Duke 
of Kent was quite limited, and he was often seriously em- 
barrassed by the difficulty of maintaining a style of living 
corresponding with his rank in life. Some of his friends 
had aided him with loans of money, and he died much in- 
volved in debt. These sums the Duchess of Kent was en- 
tirely unable to pay. Victoria greatly revered the mem- 
ory of her father, and, during her minority, often referred 
to those debts, and expressed a very strong desire to be 
able to repay those friends who had aided her father in his 
time of need. As soon as she ascended the throne, she sent 
to Earl Fitzwilliam and Lord Dundas, who had assisted 
her father, the full amount of the sums due, accompanied 
with a valuable piece of plate to each as a testimony of her 
gratitude. 

The queen, since her accession to the throne, has mani- 
fested no fondness for display, and no desire to govern. 
She appears never so happy as when surrounded by her 
own little family of lovely children, riding or strolling 
with them and her husband in the lanes and woods of 



VICTORIA. 307 



Cintra. She is also extremely fond of the ocean, never 
suffering even in the severest storms from sea-sickness. 
A portion of every year she spends in the royal yacht, as 
beautiful a miniature palace as ever floated on the ocean, 
cruising about among the picturesque islands over which 
she reigns. 

Not long ago the queen visited Scotland in the royal 
yacht, and was received with the greatest enthusiasm by 
all her subjects there. A little incident occurred while the 
yacht was lying at the garth which gave rise to the great- 
est delight and enthusiasm among the simple-hearted, roy- 
alty-admiring North Britons. The graceful " Fairy," bear- 
ing the queen and the royal family, floated upon the bosom 
of a little bay, perfectly surrounded by innumerable boats 
of every kind from both sides of the strait, crowded with 
the inhabitants, eager to catch a glimpse of their beloved 
queen. Victoria sat upon the deck, deeply gratified with 
the animated scene, and graciously responding to the ar- 
dent expressions of homage she was receiving from the 
spectators. 

A gentleman rose from one of the boats nearest the yacht, 
and addressing Lord Fitzclarence, who was in the retinue 
of the queen, stated that it would be an inexpressible sovirce 
of gratification to the assembled multitude could they be 
permitted to see the queen's oldest son, the Prince of Wales. 
The desire was immediately communicated to the queen, 
who, rising, full of maternal pride and pleasure, took her 
little boy, the heir-apparent to the throne of England, by 
the hand, and led him to the side of the vessel. Lord 
Adolphus then lifted the youthful Prince of Wales on to a 
side seat, and in full view of the enthusiastic assemblage. 



308 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



This was the signal of tremendous cheering. The little 
prince, " doffing his glazed hat," very gracefully bowed his 
acknowledgments. He was dressed throughout in the at- 
tire of a British sailor, with blue jacket, white trousers, 
and " nor' wester." 

Victoria has recently had built, for her exclusive use, a 
steamboat, as beautiful and perfect in all its appointments 
as modern luxury and art can furnish. Unfortunately, 
Prince Albert suffers much from sea-sickness ; but he who 
marries a queen must not expect to find the rose without 
a single thorn. English gossip begins to accuse Victoria 
of being rather exacting in her demands upon her husband, 
and, in her own love of the ocean, of being forgetful of his 
sufferings upon the swelling waves. It is to be hoped that 
this is mere gossip. 

The throne of Queen Victoria is erected in the chamber 
of the House of Lords. Tliis is a very magnificent apart- 
ment, ninety feet in length, forty-five in breadth, and of 
the same height. At the southern end of this room is the 
royal throne. It is elevated upon a platform raised a few 
steps fromr the floor. The platform is covered with a rich 
carpet of d.' bright scarlet gi-ound, into which are very beau- 
tifully woven roses and lions alternately, of a gold color. 
The canopy, overhanging the throne, is divided into three 
compartments. The central one, which is much more lof- 
ty than either of the others, is for the queen. The one 
upon her right hand is for her eldest son, the Prince of 
Wales, the heir-apparent. That upon her left is for Prince 
Albert. Beneath each of these canopies the coat of arms 
of the royal occupant is superbly emblazoned. On each 
side of the recess for the queen's chair of state, or throne, 



VICTORIA. 309 



there is a pedestal surmounted by an angel, bearing the 
royal arms. The legs of the chair rest upon four lions 
couohant, and the whole regal structure is so ornamented 
with carvings, gold, jewelry, and richly-embroidered velvet, 
as to present an appearance of great magnificence. A 
carved footstool is before the throne, covered with crimson 
velvet gorgeously embroidered in gold. Behind the throne 
there is a passage for the royal attendants, it not being eti- 
quette to pass before the throne while her majesty is seated. 
The chairs upon each side for the Prince of Wales and 
Prince Albert are similar in form and general details, but 
less gorgeous in their embellishments. 

Victoria has several royal palaces at her disposal. Buck- 
ingham House is her town residence. This is a very costly 
pile of buildings, some three millions of dollars having been 
expended in its construction. It is also furnished in the 
highest style of splendor which modern art can furnish. 
"Windsor Castle, upon the Thames, is her world-renowned 
country seat. She has also St. James's Palace, and the 
royal pavilion at Brighton. These palaces are furnished 
and kept in repair at the public expense. Her majesty's 
privy purse amounts to about three hundred and fifty thou- 
sand dollars a year. Prince Albert has also an additional 
grant of about two hundred thousand dollars per annum. 
A very liberal sum is also appropriated to each child as 
born. These sums, however, constitute but a small part 
of the expenses of the royal family, as the salaries of many 
of the important officers of the household are paid by the 
government, and the expenses of the royal household are so 
interwoven with the general expenditures of the govern- 
ment, that it is exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, to 



310 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



decide what Victoria's income may be. The whole expense 
of the royal family is generally estimated at about four 
millions of dollars. The time will inevitably soon come 
when the people of England will inquire if the splendors of 
royalty are worth so great a price. A queen is a very ex- 
pensive ornament. But nations, like individuals, may prize 
such glittering gems so highly as to be willing to sacrifice 
for them many solid comforts. The salary of the President 
of the United States is twenty-five thousand dollars. Should 
we rear for him palaces of more than Oriental magnificence, 
and lavish upon his sons and daughters boundless wealth, 
and surround him with nobles luxuriating in splendor, it 
could not in the least contribute to the thrift of the inhab- 
itants of the United States. Our cheap government must 
be exciting an ever-increasing influence over the world. 
And the time will probably eventually come when royalty 
will be divested of its costliness, as it has already been di- 
vested of much of its power. As intelligence increases, 
there is less disposition to be overawed by pomp and pa- 
geantry. There is now not a throne in Europe which stands 
on a firm foundation. The government of England is, how- 
ever, without any question, the best government in the Old 
World, and the most strongly intrenched in the affections 
of the community. 

The Queen of England reigns, she does not rtde. She 
sits upon the throne, but she manifests no desire to sway 
the scepter. Few of the cares of government rest upon 
her. The veteran statesmen who are clustered around her 
guide the affairs of the nation in her name. She has but 
little to do personally, except to attend to the etiquette of 
the court, to present herself as the conspicuous pageant on 



VICTORIA. 311 



a gala day, and to attach her signature to those acts of 
Parliament which are supported by those friends to whom 
the affairs of government are intrusted. The romance of 
the coronation day and of the bridal scenes have long ago 
passed away. The lovely maiden queen, whose youthful 
form, and blooming beauty, and timid grace arrested all 
eyes and won all hearts, is now an affectionate wife, an 
amiable woman, a care-worn mother. With matronly dig- 
nity she cherishes the children who are clustered around 
her. "With exemplary fidelity she discharges her duties as 
queen, as wife, as mother. She is highly esteemed and 
beloved by her subjects, and is worthy of the respectful af- 
fection she universally receives, for seldom has any throne 
been occupied by one more conscientious and meritorious 
in character than Queen Victoria. The accident of birth 
has placed her where she is. She is exposed to the strongest 
temptation which can be presented to become an idolater 
of the world. Every thing which earth can furnish of 
pomp and pageantry is arrayed to dazzle her eye. It is 
certainly greatly to her credit, that, m the midst of such 
scenes, she could have n^intained her integrity as she has 
done. There is much corruption in the government of 
Great Britain. There are many wrongs perpetrated by 
that government upon the people. But Victoria did not 
originate those wrongs, and she can have but little influence 
in removing them. Great as is the need of reform in the 
social condition of England, the queen has but little power 
either to hasten or retard those changes which time is 
surely promoting. The government of England is prob- 
ably as well administered in her name as it would be in 
the name of any other person who might accidentally sit 



312 KINGS AND QUEENS. 



1 



upon the throne. And we would, therefore, join in the 
prayer of all good Englishmen, and say, "God save the 
queen." 



THE END. 



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